SPLITSVILLA

Every now and then a show comes along that totally revolutionizes the way you look at life and a society's approach to understanding and perhaps evolving its social structure and norms. This is one such show. Initially i thought the show derived its name from the fact that you were left in "splits", every time you watched the show, however I am now told to believe that its is so called in order to stress upon the underlying theme and basic fear inducing element in the show ... the split. Now from the one and a quarter episode that I have witnessed, my limited understanding lends me to believe that the girls fear this split so much that they would do almost anything to avoid it. And for those of you innocent souls out there questioning what anything means, catch a glimpse of the show next time you're around your idiot box and you'll know what I'm referring to.

For those of you blissfully unaware of the context in which this blog is set. MTV Splitsvilla is a show where two young gentlemen and 20 young ladies, all from urban - "IT crowd" - metro - money no bar - never worked a day in my life - watched too many remix videos - less is more - skanky is sexy - attention seeking seeking syndrome - suffering demographic that is todays youth. And like all realty shows there is an element of competition introduced to spice up things a little bit as well. What is the object of desire and such intense competition you might ask. The first obvious guess would be money. The first guess would be wrong. The second guess would be something equally materialistic with a high potential pecuniary value. The second guess would be wrong as well. A certain hundred guesses later and presumably under the influnce of some asahi beer you might say, "well they must be competing for those two ruffian, scruffy lookin blokes" This guess, defiant of an entire social order that we are familiar of and indicative of a bold new frontier in human evolution where women are the chasers and men are the chasees, would surprisingly be right.

For those of you who perhaps understand more direct messages. THE WOMEN GO AFTER THE MEN . Why is "this" brilliant you might ask? in case you're a girl asking this question I do not feel compelled to answer your query. If you're a bloke askin the same query, to you i say good sir, it is time to stop living the lie and come out of the closet and announce to the world your preferance for an alternate lifestyle. The more pertinent question for the 'normal' heterosexual male is how is it really possible ? There in lies the brilliance. MTV and the assortium of half educated punkd out youth and old men stuck in their mid life crisis have amazingly found the elixir to life. They have realized the golden truth. The only way to have a group of reasonably good looking women vie for the attention of men (for a want of other descriptive adjectives, lets stick to scruffy blokes) and lay themselves bare (not literally unfortunately) on national television is to introduce an element of competitiveness. The only thing women hate more than being rejected by men is to be rejected by men in favour of another women. So putrid is the disgust induced of losing to another member of the same sex that they would do anything to win. In my opinion the girls really dont care about the two sadak chap romeos (ahh finally got it) as much as they do about landing up in the 'dumping zone'.
The bottom line. The show would have been as fierce and the women just as eager to 'impress' and talk about their "sexiest body parts", if you had two goats sitting in levis' apparel with monocles passing judgement. Hurrah to this new revolutionary comment on our modern day society. Hurrah to whatever does goats did to be on the show and have front row seats.
Hmmm I wonder if the eventual prize would be a nice big plate of mutton chops at the end.

On Board 633

TRUE STORY ... wrote those on board the flight .. never completed it though
ON BOARD 633

“To fly” the most ambitious of man’s dreams. The final frontier (actually not quite but most Indians aren’t too keen on space). The aspiration of many a grounded vagabond is to someday acquire a ticket to the elusive airline which promises the epitome of comfort. Yet this experience can from time to time become harrowing purely because it’s human. And put us Indians in charge
Of something even minutely complex and we pledge not to disappoint when it comes to screw ups (am I allowed to say screw ups?) Why the pessimistic, unpatriotic yet valid approach you ask? Well, like the ground staff said to me, “I shall attend to that shortly sir.”

It all started with an innocent message which informed yours truly that his flight back to college had been cancelled due to “technical reasons.” As an engineer I was slightly baffled by this sudden “reason” which wasn’t sudden as it had occurred a week in advance. So I put on my boxing gloves and debated, argued and pleaded over the phone with a gentleman who every 2 minutes would request me confirm my identity and some ghastly combination of digits and alphabets called PNR number. Eventually I found myself outside the airport a day in advance with my stipulated 15 kgs of weight. I collected my ticket from their exterior counter and proceeded to what I had mistakenly assumed to be a comfortable flight. Assumption they say are the mother of all mess ups and I was about to painfully verify its validity. So, allow me to come back to my plight before flight (a little bit of rhyme to liven it up!) I was currently at the counter where they give me my boarding pass after scrupulously weighing my luggage which thanks primarily to my mother’s years of packing experience was just within limits!
What can go wrong now you say? “Plenty”, my simple minded friends. I repeat, “Plenty". Let’s just cut to the “chase” (the full impact of the word you are soon to learn about). I found myself yards away from gate 3 where which was to be the infamous flight 633 was boarding from. A man suitably attired in official clothes halted my progress towards what I was hoping would be a peaceful night in home sweet home ‘Kara”. Then he asked me a bizarre question after looking at my boarding pass which went something like “are you Mr. A.K.Agarwal?” The bemused response to this perplexing query was “do I look like Mr. A.K.Agarwal!!” In my defence I would like to say that this was in my own humble opinion one of my best attempts at humour especially with a complete stranger. Unfortunately the gentleman wasn’t inclined towards a good hearty laugh and plus he didn’t plan to be strangers anymore! What followed was a deluge a questions about who I was and where I had come to acquire the aforementioned ill fated boarding pass. My response to each and every one of whom was a Scooby Doo inspired “Huh!!”

Losing my Religion

Losing My Religion

“IIT’s are turning into IIM’s,” said the apparently pessimistic and profound man. Many question the exaggerated thought process behind the increasingly popular viewpoint. I would prefer to reinforce it and attempt to prove that the drastic overhaul of an engineering student’s mentality suggested by the aforementioned prophecy is indeed underestimated.

A simple walk down our hallowed hallways, compels us to observe poster after poster in colored A3’s, depicting some excited 2^nd yearite’s ingenuity (or the lack of it) Each MSWord and Adobe Photoshop creation screaming out the overwhelming need to be different, to stand out. I might be old fashioned but, something new in IIT everyday somehow doesn’t imply that there’s something worthwhile in IIT everyday. Are we lost amongst the plethora of fests and the half a billion posts of responsibility. Each one of the latter hijacked by the desire to prove his teamwork, leadership, innovative approach and open ended problem solving attributes; yet achieving tangible results.

IITians have great analytical abilities especially so when provided with an objective target to achieve, whether its solving last 20 years of JEE papers or replicating hordes of CV’s on the LAN. An IITian’s flexibility is beyond comprehension and so is his naivety. The former proved by how each one of us honestly believes that we can over a period of 4 earnest years compile a list of achievements resembling the past precedent of prerequisites for making it big. The latter proved by how we fail to understand that the diminutive piece of paper reflects who we really are and not what we desperately want to be.

Whether its obscure organizations with social responsibilities organizing pseudo cultural fests or each post holder conceptualizing and organizing a brand new event or coordinators and captains confusing authority for power, this is the age of the self imposed frustu fighters. I remember how “frust” was a term of endearment and not a weird concoction of disgust and admiration. The iconic status thrust upon the “ legendary frustu fighter” and the “lonely gentleman” are tags which have done more harm than good. Perhaps its manifestation in 2^nd and 3^rd yearites attending each and every pre-placement talk (and not only for the free food) is not something they would like for us to accredit them with.

By the end of our tenure each one us will be one of the following; the poltu baaz, the seemingly all knowing attatchee, the exchange frustu fighter, the withdrawn philosopher or the omnipresent cool dude who’s seen it all. With my dedications complete its time to be brutally honest. You could say this Jerry Maguire’esque piece of writing draws from a personal realization or perhaps I’m finally as laid back as I was in my 1^st sem. Maybe this system is perfection at its best, an evolution of an educational system with some of the best minds of the country or maybe I’m the only who finds it appaling when I walk across a chart paper poster which reads “Save a Life … B+ boold needed for platelet count of 1900 … … … … … NSS hours guaranteed.”

FUNDAS AT IITD

FUNDAS AT IITD

At the very onset of this seemingly useless piece of literature let me rather boringly begin with a hearty welcome. I indulge in this mundane yet sufficient opening primarily relying on past precedent which as you shall soon find out rules a majority of our decision making scenarios here at the epitome of innovation (no pun intended). You shall from time to time realize that this institution is by all means extremely far off as per your initial fresher, jee, cleared, coaching institute, knowledge seeking, “normal” frame of mind expectations. Yet as all who have had the privilege of walking through the hallowed hallways of MS you will come to appreciate, respect and love beyond all else this immensely valuable acreage better known to the majority as the Indian Institute of Technology.

When asked to produce (or reproduce from memory) Fundas for the incoming batch I suffered from a case of writer’s block (I’d like to assume here that I can under safe estimation be classified as a writer). The reason for the complete and utter abyss, which was my thought process, I came to the general and convenient conclusion that there was nothing that I could impart without a partisan towards either academics or that large sphere of interest broadly classified as non-academic. Also every iota of “knowledge” extracted at this great institute is de facto pragmatic and a realization subject to that very individual .Thus I resorted to (for the sheer interest of the completion of task allocated to yours truly) to forget about the moral high ground and politically correct view point and produce before you a view skewed, troubled and with an obvious and unhindered bias. That view is mine.


1.0 FUNDAS: any arbitrary theory proposed usually by an innovative yet eccentric individual which over a period of time has come to acquire respect among the majority of residents of a place called iitd.
2.0 C.G: an even more shortened version of an abbreviation that seems to consume everybody’s life here and is statistically the highest cause for night outs which can (according to a very popular myth primarily) be SOLVED quite simply by attending classes. Which you shall soon find out isn’t as easy as it appears.
3.0 NIGHT OUTS: rumour has it that this earth shattering phenomenon was actually introduced by Nescafe to boost sales but became popular essentially to discuss any arbitrary topic (read girls and CG).this usually results in one missing the next day’s classes which is in direct contradiction to the whole discussion to increase the aforementioned CG.
4.0 B.R.C.A: four letters which will change your life for your tenure here at iitd. Although the never ending events bringing out the competitive monster inside us all it is simply the sole refuge from the boredom that would be iitd without it. The shear thought of its absence sends a shiver down my spine.
5.0 MUGGU: one whose aspect suggest not that he has a high CG but rather one who would give heaven and earth to obtain the elusive. As you might have guessed this is nickname you want to keep yourself from even if the substitute is obscene or in keeping with social etiquette (reference in particular to boys hostel!)
6.0 HOSTEL: haven for all those seeking normalcy yet closer observation would lead us to believe that it is indeed the institution that promotes everything arbitrary and gives birth to the very eccentric thought process essential for formulating FUNDAS.
7.0 TIME TABLE: every iitians’s first formal introduction to the brave new world of slots, cycles (believe me it’s not what you’re thinking of…not even close), groups and mammoth geography that is INSTI.
8.0 PHP100: this is the sole course which every iitian claims to have worked hard at yet no one ever speaks fondly of the aforementioned, primarily because of the fact that they slogged for a measly 2 credits. This course is the glue that binds many years together through all the stories that have been shared.
9.0 NESCAFE: a common hanging out joint in the earlier part of the month but when wallets become lighter this “cool” place for “hot” coffee has its popularity reduced quite drastically. Each of the two present has their own charm and purposes which I believe should be left to the reader to find out on his own.
10.0 BUSES: an enigma of sorts, these iitd buses usually only seen when you’re 5 meters from your destination but when desperately late they mysteriously disappear of the face of the earth.
11.0 ATTENDANCE: probably the only word whose fear factor and tension creating index (we guys love coining our own terms) comes close to CG. Usually not an issue of concern for the duration of the first semester

As you might have noticed all points have been numbered in decimals which is a passion bordering on infatuation with all iitians. Also as mentioned before these are not hard and fast rules nor are they guidelines nor are they to be taken seriously under any circumstance. I shall also not be held responsible for any probable shortcoming in any sphere due to either the direct or the indirect application of the above Fundas (which serves as a form of political asylum for people such as me who just write for FUN). Another word of caution is that this list is neither exhaustive nor can it ever be. Any resemblance of Fundas to those already in circulation or those extinct is purely coincidental.

Now when you might be asking your self the efficacy of this futile attempt at humour, comes the more pertinent question with a proclivity towards the serious ….What pragmatic or hypothetical purpose did reading this serve to you? The answer to that question can only be found (at the risk of sounding philosophical) by indulging in an activity which one shall get accustomed to during one’s stay here. That “activity” is a free and unrestricted thought process (not necessarily provoked by this boring accumulation of eccentric ideologies). To think. That’s what you’re here to do. To think.

IIT ARTICLES ...

I thought it would be fun to upload some of the stuff i wrote during my more than memorable stay at IITD. Here they are::

A ROYAL MESS

Very rarely does a “full blooded” man (whose characteristics I shall surely define later) find himself in a predicament so twisted and evil, concocted with devil’s blood itself, a plan conceived by the disciples of Satan yet implemented by god’s own men. It is in desperate times like these that he seeks solace in the lone refuge of the desolate, the only haven for the despondent the proverbial “last resort” (also an eagle’s song by the way). Now allow me to clarify the aforementioned aggregation of nonsense probably influenced by insomnia and enormous intake of caffeine by yours truly. Now I’m sure you must be wondering what I can possibly be referring to because I surely am! In my defense I propose the following far fetched but well researched factoids bordering on the truth…… The defined predicament is when an unsuspecting hosteller waltzes in to “his” mess to find a despicable array of options seemingly under the category of edible and palatable food only to realize that he has developed a strong cumulative loathing for “that” very array of food. Now this accumulation of hatred has compelled him to come out of his placid shell, break free and say “NO”. Simple you say? What’s the whole fuss over? It’s just an exercise for free speech? The real crux of the problem actually lies further south of the stomach. Oops clarification needed! What I meant was the manifestation of economic status based on the age old global yet slightly altered version of the physical barter system. Still confused? He had a big fat “ZUUK“in his wallet for those of you who love the blunt ineloquent approach to life.

Now why would I waist 5 minutes of your precious time with a prologue to a scenario so clichéd so hackneyed and so passé? Oh! I forgot a word……common. The answer lays in that last addition to the list of adjectives for a situation whose very mention sends a shiver down my spine. Let us now in true I.I.T fashion dissect the problem and via an analytical thought process and come to a logical and hopefully correct solution. But the only perfect solution is one that can satiate human hunger and yet not leave the individual’s economic standing in society in a questionable state. THAT would be in cs102 lingo the n log n equivalent in modern day life!

Step one of an elementary two step procedure. What NOT to do. DO NOT think of your mom (no offense to butler Saab) and the seemingly infinite portions of home made food which lay there punctually every night at your disposal. DO NOT give in to mass hysteria produced by the advertisements of huge corporations like MacD, dominos or slice of Italy or even the slightly cheaper alternatives of jugheads. These merely induce the notion that shelling out cash in return for insufficient portions of food (although delicious) is a valid indiscretion for a youth to indulge in. This however is not in keeping with your average hosteller’s monthly budget (unless you’re organizing Rendezvous of course). This budget is meant to be donated unwillingly and unknowingly to Gopi at Nescafe or that frustrated gentlemen at KLS or even to that pedantic family running Sip N Bite. We can’t afford a 20 buck burger for Pete’s Sake! That would be blasphemous to the religion that is I.I.T.

DO NOT even contemplate the horrid option that is KLS. Okay I realize I might have offended a few loyalists but it’s only for the better (I hope!). Come on gentlemen, we’ve all come back from our mother’s fragrant kitchens. Only to subject our high standards to abject humiliation in the form of “butter” paneer (a weird pun for the “cream” of the country) or “shahi” paneer (a rotten attempt to make us feel royal) or “kadai” paneer (I wish it would have stayed in the kadai in the first place). Bottom line gentlemen (sexual bias not going unnoticed) is eating out on your own precious little stash of money is simply not acceptable. If you haven’t given in to any of the above, congratulations you are now a “full-blooded” man.

That brings us to what to DO in the aforementioned situation with which I have consumed a perfectly productive half hour of the reader. Statutory warning: this solution is only a manifestation of the ethically devoid yet satiated lifestyle so commonly observed in any hosteller and should not be held against the institute or hostel in its entirety. Without further a due I propose the following revolutionary yet age old tradition encapsulated in a magnificent 5 letter word called TREAT. First with your feet firmly on the ground do rough scan of the room you are currently in (if alone I suggest you relocate). Second then eliminating the population who might actually ask YOU for a treat rank the remaining population with respect to their treat giving coefficient. This coefficient depends on various parameters such as economic status, “pappipana” (essentially the ability to get duped easily), familiarity, seniority of the victim you are about to ruthlessly hunt down…… and most importantly a “reason”. This reason may be anything that serves the purpose (free food in case you’ve forgotten). Its diversity may extend from academic success to social acclaim to sports victory to even something as trivial as a nice t-shirt. What matters most is the manner in which the proposition was made. Some of the great hustlers have even managed treats from minuscule compliments such as “hey, that’s a great hair cut”. I however recommend that you slowly increment your level at the risk of damaging your reputation for good.

Now that I have relinquished the almighty secret to conquering the perennial conundrum of hunger coupled with “zuuk” in the wallet you are welcome to ask……Why oh why I felt compelled to subject you to this Chinese torture in the name of writing. The answer lies in a cliché. I am very passionate about food (although my physical aspect doesn’t seem reflective of that passion) and as they say “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach”. Happy hunting tonight gentlemen.

Long live the King

Why do I support Federer? The answer is detailed yet painfully simple. In 2001 when he beat Sampras he was exquisite and since 2003 he’s been world number one for more weeks than even Connors, and yes he’s won 12 Grand Slams including five consecutive titles at Wimbledon. But that’s not it. Nadal is clearly better than him today and is better against him (12-6 overall record in his favor would suggest the same conclusion to even an idiot) Then why am I against this man whose talent I honestly do admire. The brute force and athleticism of the Spaniard are unparalleled across sporting boundaries. There never has been anyone who can make passing shots on the dead run with a flick of those weightlifter wrists and never shall they be anyone as well. No one who has used a whip to impart so much spin on the ball, that it kicks even on the hallowed greens of SW19. And even though I dislike his mind games before every serve with one-upmanship time wasting being a deliberate ploy, I still do respect him as a great champion.
I got up thrice that night from my more than comfortable bean bag to call it a night only to catch from the corner of my eye the determination and sheer brilliance of a man who was fighting; fighting not against his opponent or his critics but rather for something, for someone to be more precise for himself. The only thought painted all over his intense slightly asymmetrical face was ‘not tonight, I can’t lose tonight ‘. Many believe in the underdog theory and almost live by it. The underdog theory for those of you who are unaware states that in the event of a lack of a substantially plausible logical reason to support someone in any contest we must support the underdog. Why must we support the underdog? Quite simply because we don’t want to be seen to know nothing about the context of the contest and god forbid someone should turn around and say ‘you’re only supporting him/them because you know they’re going to win’ and that begs the other logically obvious question as to why support anyone at all? The even more obvious answer would have to be the fear of not having an opinion or an interest (however forced it might be) in what is clearly cool conversation talk for the fortnight.
Now, to finally answer the question; Despite these remarkable positives in his game why don’t I support him. The answer lies in those very unbelievable aspects of his game. For someone who plays tennis and looks forward to grand slams to lift his own game by 10% (only to fell to the original level a week later) I can’t possibly look up to Nadal. As brilliant as his shots are they’re not replicable, unless I spend 3 months in the gym and still hope for divine intervention every time step on to the court. The radically outlandish style the left hander has brought is not one that inspires. ‘Inspires’- that is critical. When I look at Federer and see him execute that marvelous serve and (sometime) sublime backhand, it gives me hope. It almost compels me to pick up the phone and call up the first person I think of and say ‘let’s play’. That is what a champion is supposed to do. That is why people supported Beckham; because he ‘forced’ us to try an impossible angle and defy physics to swing the football in the air when we were alone on the football field waiting for friends to arrive. Trust me, I’ve tried the whip forehand and it only made me feel ridiculous and Nadal look like a freak of nature. I can respect people who are ‘different’ and they’re identity and right to exist and succeed, but my idol and my ‘champion’ has to INSPIRE me to be better. Long live the King.

Further Down Under

My current state of affairs is a unique combination of deplorable and hilariously whimsical. It is amazing how often a man is forced to eat his own words and go back on what he so profoundly proclaimed is being beneath his so called ‘standards’. It’s even more amazing if you happen to be one of those people who suffer from public proclamation and exhibitionism disease. In my case this happens to be referring to the networking website or as one gentleman made famous ‘inter personal’ networking website “Orkut”. Now this is the deal. I have often looked down upon people who have relied upon such sites as a lifeline and cant sleep without checking their scrap count. (quite honestly, ‘kayi logon ko hugga nahi aata’ is what I was trying to say; the translated paraphrase not quite working). Now however I sadly admit I am back to orkutting, blogging and yes even facebooking.

My current employers (God bless their souls for paying me for doing nothing) had a reputation for keeping their subjects as it were, busy with loads of menial tasks such as photocopying and spiralling. Thus it was often referred to as the glorified and obviously higher paying version of the intern at SCOOPS. Now unfortunately after a rather embarrassing situation the previous year they have decided to cut down to the objected mentioned quality of work. The result of this Managerial decision (I assume taken over an hour long meeting with a table full of eatables and two mega packs of Tui Beer, as is customary with all meeting here) has had quite a drastic result on my life. My iPod’s 30GB memory of music has been played over and over again. My personal files which were glorified calendars with important dates have been updated with everything from Man Utd fixtures to holidays from the IIT calendar. The transfer rumours from every nook and corner have been read and discarded.

It is then that I returned to the avenger of boredom. The world wide web or to be more precise Orkut. I am tempted to give you a long sentence using the MS Word thesaurus using the alphabet ‘O’. But this lack of work has drained me of my will to go through all the effort (the reader is however free to do so and get back to me). I am now reduced to a low life that scans through people’s scrapbooks only to hope that in the lowest form of social existence perhaps the clock progresses slightly quicker than usual. Now I resort to an even more public form of expression, baring my soul as it were (Nah, just sounds more dramatic that way). But there is a saving grace to this rather lowly existence. The past precedent of me having almost retired from all sorts of ‘networking’ once the summers is over is a comforting thought to fall back on, although the drastic withdrawal and complete sticking to my shell has drawn flak from a few quarters as well. Nonetheless I feel this rather ‘Seinfeld’esque post about ‘nothing at all’ has stretched beyond human minds capacity to even stay remotely interested. With that I sign out. Cheers mate. (luv sayin this)