There and Back again...

Once upon a time, there was a chicken who lived in a dusty little pen with his family. The chicken was very inquisitive by nature and, though he was very proud of his pen, he always wanted to take flight and reach beyond the fence, to see the entire farm with his eyes.

One day, the chicken woke up to find all the birds and animals gathered in the field. On going closer, he saw a duck called "Professor", quacking to everyone around him about his pond. The chicken was really impressed by the duck and the way he quacked and asked him if he could accompany him to explore his place. The duck agreed and together they left for the west.

On reaching the pond, the little chicken couldn't believe what he saw. The ducks had pushed back the waters to make some land where they could bathe in sun. Everything was so neat, clean and green. The ducks were really nice to him and so were the other birds. The females, called the "chicks", were so much prettier too. He made loads of friends and discovered many wonderful things.

"Professor" asked the chicken to make an "Ultra Low-Power Cardiac Sense Amplifier", to which the chicken gladly agreed. He was having a lot of fun, doing his work on weekdays and "birdwatching" on the weekends. Every now and then, his friends took him to the brewery and slurped the liquid they called "high-without-fly". They also showed him some kind of grass, which made them act like cuckoos!

Everything was going great till the time chicken realised he had to fly back to his pen. He finished the amplifier, bid farewell to everyone and left for his trip back. Though he felt guilty about it, he wished he could stay there forever. Last three months were the best three months of his entire tiny life, and he felt a little sad going back to his noisy little bird-cage, in a pen littered with bull-faeces.

Though settling down in a foreign land was tough, this journey back from the unknown to known has been a lot harder than I ever expected.

The Salsa Story

Its 2 o clock in the night, and I am up writing this stupid post for a group of vella people to enjoy it the next morning. But I can't help it. A bloody mosquito has been buzzing his ass off, making short work of my sleep. A sudden thought: if I was granted a magical wish, I'd wish for this mosquito to be larger, so that I could snap its beak or whatever and stick it into its ass. But then I thought, it wasn't really a bright idea. Firstly, I'd have to dispose its body after fulfilling my sadistic fetish(s). And it might not be that easy after all, snapping its beak or whatever and sticking it into its ass. And imagine having one magical wish and spending it on mosquito enlargement. How crazy would that be!


So I am sitting here, now hoping for a magical wish, in any case and muttering curses to that noisy bastard. In the meanwhile, I decide to write something about my last few days, which have been a bit more than interesting -


A month into my intership, and life takes an interesting turn!

I was coming back from the cafeteria after having some bad self-cooked lunch on a monday morning. So obviously I wasn't in the best of moods and started cribbing about my nearly non-existent social life, in what I was told "The Land of Actual Opportunities", to Vaibhav, a skinny PhD guy who is growing a beard in order to look like Tom Cruise, I dont have a clue how (though apart from that, he is a pretty cool guy). We are walking towards the EWI building and and I spotted a poster. It had some gibberish in Dutch, but what caught my eye were two words-Party and Gratis. Gratis means Free and it was one of the first words I learnt here. You can all guess why.

Well I dont know how it works for other people, but a sudden surge of hope always makes me do the "John Travolta Walk on Staying Alive". And thats what I did, much to the consternation of the nearby people.

Anyways, I made it to my lab without creating any furore. And there I checked out what it was really about. SoSalsa, a society for salsa enthusiasts, was organizing a week of salsa parties. It sounded perfect. But there was one small glitch - I just dint know how to do salsa.

To be continued...

Wash 'n' Wipe : Fighting the early morning b"loo"s

The previous two posts were reportedly a bit solemn and against the spirit of the blog, so I am writing this one just to "wash" away the sobering effect.

Though I had been anticipating it, the gravity of this issue "pressed" on me when I woke up to my first morning in Delft. I pondered hard about this while brushing my teeth, and a realization zipped past me that millions of people must have scratched their heads to find the perfect solution to bridge this fundamental divide between civilizations, this irreconcilable difference between those who wash and those who wipe. I also realized that probably this is what the "American Born Confused Desis" were afterall confused about. To paraphrase Kipling -

East is Lota, West is TP,
And never the twain shall meet
Not even when both stand presently,
at God's great toilet seat

Something inside signaled me to hurry up. I summoned my creative faculties & some coffee and immediately got down to the task at hand.

Ofcourse, paperwork was a completely unacceptable option. Because you know that you could wipe and wipe till, mixing metaphors and anatomy, you are blue in the face but you'll still be a dirty bum. I had to be true to myself and my ablutionary identity.

After 10 minutes of "brainstorming" and several inspection visits to the site, when no fool-proof epiphanies presented themselves to me, I resorted to Google - the nanny whom you reach for everytime you are in trouble and need a quick answer. I tried searching for signs of any trails my predecessors followed to their road of redemption. and then there they were...

I was amazed by the creativeness of people that spanned across religions and nationalities. A plethora of ingenious tricks and postures were advocated, including pumice, bottles, cups and even shoes! I'll give out the ones that i found to be the most interesting ones.

One sore-pressed soul came up with what might be described as the 'Ganga solution': take a purificatory bath each time you go to the loo.

The suggestion, however, has inbuilt impracticalities. For one thing, many bathrooms don't have showers but bathtubs, filling which is an awkwardly time-consuming exercise, with your host wondering what on earth is taking you so long in there, and an impatient queue of fellow guests building up outside the door. Moreover, immersion in the stagnant water of a tub merely means a redistribution of ritual and other pollution rather than its elimination.

Another recommended the use of one's shoe as a receptacle to convey water from the tap to the site of application. True, you'd have to walk around with one wet shoe. Still, better squelchy toes than an icky bottom. But what if you're wearing open-toed slippers or sandals?

As for me, I finally zeroed onto one particular solution and improvised it a bit according to the given loo. After having performed the whole maneuver successfully, I felt like coming off age. I could now proudly say with a click of the tongue - "Yep! Been there, Done that!"

I'm no Superman

For my next entry, I will just be copy-pasting the lyrics of a song. I dont think any other group of lines could summarize my feelings these days, more beautifully.

Superman
by Lazlo Bane
Soundtrack - Scrubs

Out the door just in time
Head down the 405
Gotta meet the new boss by 8 am
The phone rings in the car
The wife is working hard
She's running late tonight again

Well
I know what I've been told
You gotta work to feed the soul
But I can't do this all on my own
No, I know I'm no Superman
I'm no Superman

You've got your love online
You think you're doing fine
But you're just plugged into the wall
And that deck of tarot cards
Won't get you very far
There ain't no hand to break your fall

Well
I know what I've been told
You gotta know just when to fold
But I can't do this all on my own
No, I know I'm no Superman
I'm no Superman
That's right

You've crossed the finish line
Won the race but lost your mind
Was it worth it after all
I need you here with me
Cause love is all we need
Just take a hold of the hand that breaks the fall

Well

I know what I've been told
Gotta break free to break the mold
But I can't do this all on my own
No I can't do this all on my own
I know that I'm no Superman
I'm no Superman
I'm no Superman

Someday we'll be together
Someday
Someday we'll be together
Someday
I'm no Superman

2 weeks and counting...

Hmm... So two weeks up in Netherlands. Time for another entry.

The calender says its been 15 days in Delft. I can't really tell. Time is such a funny thing, sometimes it just flashes past you, and sometimes just refuses to budge, like now...

During these two weeks, I've come to know the pleasant and the not-so-pleasant aspects of life here. Firstly, all this cycling presented too much exercise for my groin initially, and left me with a sore rear (the miscreant is shown above). But I have got more or less used to it now. What really is a "pain in the ass" is cooking. Every day!! Man! Dont know how I'll arrange for the remaining 75 dinners lined up, waiting to be cooked.

But the worst of all is... longing. Longing for the days I spent, surrounded by friends and family. The few acquaintances I've made, have been good to me. But thats the occupational hazard of being a graduate student - The friends you make are as busy as you, if not more. And nothing can make us f**kers part with our money easily.

Sometimes I get this weird feeling, something similar to the one I always have when I get pen sets as birthday gifts. But I guess, you gotta catch whatever life throws at you, and catch it with both hands. You cant always have aloo ka paranthas for breakfast and rajma chaawal for dinner, or come home from work to find someone waiting for you, eager to hear your "you-know-what-happened-today" stories. But you can have a pale,tasteless pasta and the satisfaction of making it on your own for breakfast, or you can come home just in time for your daily 7'o clock, 1 hr of F.R.I.E.N.D.S, followed by half an hour of Scrubs!

Bottomline - You gotta adapt...just like my butt.

Day 1 in Delft

A part of Delft as seen from my Lab

So after much deliberations, I reached Delft. I had to carry more than 40 kgs of luggage in different forms from the airport to the railway station, board a train, change trains from Hague, and then get down at Delft. It was f**king tiring!!

I'll be living at 51, Casper Fagelstraat. Its one of the easier-to-pronounce streets here. The apartment is really nice, and so is my room. I would have posted pictures, but I littered my room sooner than expected, and I dont want my housekeeper to accidently discover, while surfing the net, what I have done to their room. My housekeepers are really nice people, and they have given me a bike (its what they call a cycle) which I can use for 3 months.

The Dutch take thier cycling very seriously. Its the most common form of transport here, with seperate lanes and traffic lights for them. And everybody here cycles-bachche, boodhe, aur jawaan. Its one of the reasons for almost zero pollution here.

The Electrical Engg building is the tallest building in Delft, and as there arent any other tall buildings, it towers above everything else. So its not that difficult to make your way towards it. The tricky part is when you have to come back. I got lost bigtime, and it took me an hour and a half to reach back to my place(whereas, it was only a 15 min journey in the morning). Now its a really pleasant experience to get lost in an unknown beautiful city, when you are on a bike, but its a different thing altogether when you are cycling with a full bladder.

Its so beautiful and green out here, that I dont feel like taking pictures. All I want to do is to absorb the beauty surrounding me. But still, I'll try and take some pics, and post them for everybody's benefit.

zoooooooooo!! (sound of an airplane taking off)

Its 4.15 in the morning.

On my right, Sun was making a sheepish appearance, rising from a blanket of clouds, probably to steal a last glance. The sky was blushing pink, and if you tried you could hear a faint chirping. Passengers were slowly filling up the plane, lugging at their bags wistfully, drowsiness creeping from the corners of their eyes. They somewhat resembled the last benchers sitting in a Microwave Ckts Class. But not me.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the moment had finally arrived. It was to record the journey from this moment onwards that this blog was created. The previous crap was like a drumroll or in Chandler Bing's words " The Magician before Pink Floyd came in to play".

I cant remember being more excited in a long long time (the last 5 mins of the aforementioned Microwave Class being an exception). My upper paddock was flooded with possibilities, inundated with things. Things I'll see, Things I'll do, and Things I'll learn.

My quest for a pretty airhostess finally ends, as Turkish Airlines dishes out some really nice fare here. Even the stewards are kinda cute (I'm just saying!!).

Chalo, the signs are lit. Its time to fasten your seatbelts. And brace yourself for the takeoff.

I stare out of the window, and notice a reflection smiling back...

The Adventure of the Missed Flight

Though I ranted about a very desolate existance till now, there have been a few bright spots here and there. The last one happened in Dec, 2006.

The Adventure of the Missed Flight
Starring - Nihit Bajaj, some nameless Indian Airlines official, a couple of extras and yours truly.
Location - Kuala Lumpur International Airport

I was lying at a beach along with a beautiful chinki bandi. A gentle breeze blew through our hair as wave upon wave crashed on the sand, the water sneaking up to our feet like a child, tickling them and then rushing back. As I stare at the sun, setting behind the swivelling curtain of ocean, I take the hand of the chinki bandi and a feeling of eternal bliss spreads through my body.

The chinki bandi leaned towards me, her hair smelling of sea shells and lavender, and whispered sheepishly in my ear. A chuckle escaped me, as I registered the import of her words. She took hold of my shoulders with her hands, asked me to close my eyes and started gently massaging them, making me shiver with pleasure. Her hands started moving faster and faster, building up the anticipation in me. Then suddenly something jolted me. I opened my eyes to see her rocking me with an urgency. She suddenly starts wailing, surprisingly in a very masculine voice. As I try to comfort her , she cries - "Sehgal Bhai! Yeh kya ho gaya yaar!"

"Sehgal Bhai! Uth saale, f**k ho gaya yaar!" laments a voice now I slowly seemed to recognize. As I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, I tried to piece together a picture by looking in every direction, while coming to senses. Fortunately, it doesnt take much time, as the first thing my eyes fell on was my watch. It showed 11.30 A.M.

Now watches have always been unkind to me-during exams, boring classes, etc. But this was something different. As I started planning out how to rip out those ticking needles in excruciating detail, a sickening and more pressing realisation suddenly dawned - we had missed our flight. I started cursing the watch for showing that time, the person who created these instruments of precision, Malaysia for not being at walking distance from India, Nihit for his incessant wailing and myself for being in such a screwed up situation.

Next 15 minutes were a flash. We dove towards our luggage, got dressed, cursed time for denying us our ablutions, packed up, checked out, got scolded by both sets of parents, and created a scene in the hostel. We took a taxi and begged the driver to take us to the airport as fast as possible, still hoping that the flight being an IA, might get delayed due to a flat tyre or a pilot with an upset stomach. It didnt.

I think it was during our journey to the airport, that we lost it. While Nihit started discussing ways of saving up money so that he could make up for the loss we were going to incur, I resisted a strong urge to howl - "Bhaag Dhanno Bhaag!!"

We reached the airport, got 2 bills signed by the taxi driver and gushed over our first steps towards repaying the money. In the meantime, Nihit's dad had called up a few people, and told us the plan - call in sick in front of the IA authorities. Fall to their feet and beg for forgiveness. Continue begging till the desired result is obtained.Period

So one of us had to pretend to be very very ill. We both looked out of sorts that time, but we choose to strive for perfection. We started evaluating each other's theatrical prowess and past experience. While we were looking at the capabilities of both the applicants, the person we were supposed to meet, strolled in. Seeing that we still hadnt decided upon our roles, fate decided to take its own course. Something made me sneeze, and voila - My shoulders suddenly drooped, eyes became heavy and I started coughing vigorously (Surprising what a sneeze can do to you! )The official for once thought I was terminally ill, and offered me a seat. Taking my cue, Nihit soon got into his elements and started begging for mercy, wtih me puncuating from time to time with a cough or a sneeze. And within 10 mins, we walked out with our tickets for next day's flight, free of cost!!

While people around me were getting crazy about blogs, I fought the temptation to take the leap. And the result is that after spending half an hour, feverishly typing and pressing check repeatedly, I found to my dismay that all cool names were taken. Apparently, individuality is overrated.

Joining the herd!

For reasons unknown, i resisted starting a blog for quite some time. And for reasons unknown, I finally gave in...

Everybody around me started posting their day-to-day musing & millings online and felt very smug about it. I wondered why?? I wondered what needs of a human being, tangible or intangible, were being satiated by a thread-bare, public online journal. And when I couldnt come with any "un-indecent" reasons, I decided to test the waters myself.

To be frank, my life hasnt been interesting enough, before this point of time, to be worthy of a blog. I havent been to many cool places. I have neither seen any UFOs nor been visited by any gross aliens. I havent grown up in a war-torn country (all mine manages to get is "bilateral diplomatic dialogue", no action stuff). I dont work as a life guard in a red chaddi with a red surfboat in one hand and a hot chick I just saved, in the other! And the most disappointing fact- I havent seen any pret, chudail, khoon ki pyaasi aatma, etc which seemingly reside in every nook and corner of this country.

No GFs. All I could manage was a rumour and the gurl asked people to consider linking her to someone else, to protect her honour and dignity.

To sum up, all i have to show for my first 21 yrs on this planet is a hint of a paunch, an Engg degree, and a few random thoughts. C- !!

This is when i decided to take things in my own hands...