Monday, October 30, 2006

The answer and the unknown question.

I’ve been reading hitchhikers guide to the galaxy part two and on the same day facing 5 various versions of academic evaluation and the combination has been rather what else can I do (apart from studying for the next evealuated component which is tomorrow and the five tests within the next week) is write about how disheartening the combination really is.

For those who don’t know Zaphod Beeblebrox(from the book i mentioned) is an ex-president of the universe who among other things jumped into his memory and hacked off the bits which held dangerous secrets. And because of something he is going to do he has been sent to the 'frogstar galaxy' for the anhilation of his soul in 'the total perspective vortex'. The torture machine is actually the simulation of the whole universe in comparison with your size. The victim of the machine will be so horrified that his soul will be dead.

What is the point of me telling all this?? Well, I’m inside a “the total perspective vortex” of my own. I had two tutorials, an online, a viva and a interview…all of which were ‘unsatisfactory’ and adding exponentially to the list of problems I have.

I mean why me? Can’t I just be this dreamy girl who want to work as a treasure hunter and several exotic places filled with good food and comfortable beds instead of being processed in this monstrous factory? The problem is’nt even the’s the fact that sometimes I don’t know what is going on...biasing a current mirror and then adding some other mirrors as cascade and still being unhappy with the gain is very irritating.. why make the whole thing so complicated fill books about what is to be done and then neatly proceed to the next chapter describing a totally different approach to the same problem? What is the point in it all??
Yeah, yeah…it’s the basis for all electronics on earth…but why is it so diffused and vague to me? Ah well…

The air has cleared now and a bolt of logic has hit hits me every day(solidly), that if I keep this up I’ll start writing poetry (vogon like)about my plight instead of making grades. Guess I should trudge on like Arthur dent(or maybe marvin) through the bizarre galaxy and find the right questions and the corresponding right answers..only around 42 more days to go anyway. Sooooo "MOS C-V understanding and the relevant sections" herrrree i come.

Monday, October 09, 2006

My Morning Mound

I might be many things, but being an early riser is definitely not one of them, and more so after being faced with three glorious months of holidays after a grueling semester in a university far far away ( in the middle of a desert kinds). so you can conclude that the consequences which forced me to go for morning walks with my father were rather grim. I kept shoveling down food partly because it was a welcome release from the bland and undistinguishable mess food and partly because I had nothing better to do (unless u count reading gruesome murder mysteries or watching clich├ęd action movies as better ) due to which my clothes came very close to not fitting me (1/4th inch close!) and so I dramatically announced that I would accompany my father who is an avid jogger every morning. Quite predictably my parents and sister smirked and sniggered and that, I now realize was the real reason why I forced myself awake the next day.
My house is around 5 kilometers away from the 10 feet walls which separate the airport and the rest of the city. The colony where we stay in gives way to another colony which then opens out into a semi market area from where the main road can be seen. On the other side of the road there is this lane which meanders into lush stretches of airforce owned land and then slopes away into the sun during day. This was the route through which I jogged everyday (for a few days atleast). Till I reach the lane all I could think of was my bed and my limbs which I could swear were cracking or atleast screeching in protest, it’s not like the walk was strenuous, it’s just that I wasn't game for it. My father however seemed to effortlessly speed away, due to which I sometimes had to run to catch up. And then I reached the lane.
I noticed three things there, one was I was wheezing and was in no shape to make the same journey back (poor me), the second was the air had changed around me.the city dust had given way to the cool tender breeze which caused the trees bending over the lane to sway gently, as though in encouragement and also the area was suddenly full of serene joggers of the whole age spectrum who were in total harmony with their legs and hands and the scene around them, god! I felt like a hippo among swans. Seeing my struggle to keep up, my father suggested that I sit down on a mound like spot somewhere beside the lane until he finishes the rest of his walk (we were’nt even halfway through) and so at the turn of the lane, I dragged my self to the top of the mound which seemed to be made of unused dried up tar and was around 15 feet tall and a few dogs were lying about and some families with little children, looking into the runway, but the best thing to me was a bench or fence like cement structure on which I gratefully collapsed
The colour of the sky was now grey which streaks of orange and pink and the air seemed perfumed..and closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. What a feeling it was to breathe normally again, and when I opened my eyes, I was greeted my a spectacular sight. The runaway was aglow with bright lights beyond which several planes of all sizes (there was a tiny one too) and fancy tails were resting with engineers and flight officials working on them. Their motors were running and the metallic whirring clashed with the serene quietness to produce a sensation of awe in me, like I was witnessing something huge and great. The morning birds were chirping now, and dawn was about to break and the sight before me was changing colours, each producing a different effect than the previous one. Suddenly, the kid in his fathers arms squealed with happiness and I looked where he was pointing. From the horizon a plane was coming towards the runaway, its body reflecting the rising sun’s light, it kept coming towards the ground gleaming occasionally until it touched the runway bounced a little and sped across the mound, majestically and I’m sure much to the relief of the passengers.. the kid was clapping hands, indeed it sure did beat cartoon network. I saw a takeoff and another landing before I realized my father had returned. It was time to go back to the same lazy holiday, but I vowed to the runaway and the mound that I would be back.. and I did return most of the times until it was time for be to go back to the hostel.
Why am I writing so much about a silly mound so elaborately? Well, because it is’nt there anymore. I got a call from my parents and they told me the airport authority had broken it down and built a wall in its place. For security reasons it seems. Not a big deal to them, but for me they had closed for ever, the only window to watch the plane taxing across the whole runaway before disappearing into the sky. A sight which made my days and got infants screaming. I felt a strange sense of loss. A loss which I should I felt when I got awful marks in hindi at school or a loss I should have felt when my grandfather died when I was little. Sometimes when I have nothing to do (or I’m not doing anything), I find myself seeing what I saw on a the mound. It never fails to cheer me up.
This was my tribute to the morning mound. I would consider myself very lucky if I saw the things on it and felt how I felt, alone and euphoric in the heart of a city again.