goodbye,new acquaintance.

well, this should take care of it. FUCK THIS!

new version of blogger... dunno if it'll help, cause my cause seems to be one of those lost causes you encounter everywhere...tried to "switch now" but somehow my login name didn't exist... after trying atleast a dozen times i decided to blame myself for having forgotten.. and then, god save google, i saw the link for logging in with my google username... such a relief after having thoughts about creating a new blog...not that this one seems to be doing much...

pointless. completely. i don't even know what a transfer function is, although the question paper says this expression is one. i don't know what a magnitude plot is either, nor do i know how to go about sketching one. this kind of shortcoming makes me regret not studying, and i don't like to regret anything, so i'll move on and pretend that transfer plots and magnitude functions don't exist. and what is an asymptotic Bode diagram? must work fast. not much time left. it (time) is an all'pervading culprit. i wonder why time is not a matter of study like these stupid subjects. if people knew better about time, and its consequences, it would be a better world, wouldn't it? go go go GO!

writing like this, with all the time in the world and poking at the keyboard with one finger is good for lazy monts. might comeup with actually acceptable stuff if i continue do this over a long time. too lazy, though, plus the shoulder starts to feel uncomfortable pretty soon. should've written that more concisely. rest... its good to be nowhere in particular...but that's just a feeling. actually, its just a slightly longer time delay on the inevitable blow-up-in-your-face situation that i'll be facing sometime in the future. come to think of it, i actually know a few things i should've been doing right now. but it's all good, the present is receding into the past at a pace very well-suited to my mood right now. sleepy and tolerant to the conversation of two or more adults and, intermittently, a 12-year old.

domestic help. i don't remember what i was thinking when i typed that in my cell, but it certainly is food for thought...i've seen so many people who've been in that position...in the house, other people's homes, at markets with families (lugging around the kid in this place or pushing around the kid(in a pram, i mean, not bullying it) in the metrocities)...they define the start of the lower strata of humanity in most terms...financial, emotional, situational...i wonder what heir driving factors are, how they (and, for all i know, their antecedants) came to realize their vocation was this; the carrying out of the whims and fancies of economically stronger people. money, of course, and luck. i'm sure there are lots of these people who revel in their job, taking delight in serving their employers, and then again there are those stereotypical butlers and valets of English culture who've formed an image of their own, helped liberally by P.G.Wodehouse's creation - the infallible Jeeves.

the most basic question an ordinary mind asks is Why. Why? well, it depends. on the reason that guides you to a state of perpetual dilemma; or, alternatively, to a state of dissatisfaction for which a plausible reason fails to present itself. in the latter case, it is almost always a plaintive, sighing Why? that escapes thought processes as vocal residue. the origin of this all-encompassing question is simple enough. to depict, that is; to understand it would be like achieving time travel. this is how questions, in general, arise:




an event (any event) is the driving force behind sparking off a thought process (in the brain). this thought process is hindered by any number of problems that may be existent or non-existent (being fabricated through inherent paranoia of the brain). these hindrances lead to questions. at this juncture, it becomes crucial that the questions be answered. in effect there may be many questions. schematically, this situation is shown more appropriately as this arrangement:




it is easily seen that while the driving event remains the same (as does the brain), the problem (problems, of varying degrees) lead to questions that require answers to close the switch and let thought processes flow through. these questions, too, have varying priority levels. once one or more of these are answered, the thought processes translate themselves into action. just like electric current, a thought process will always choose the path of least resisitance. of course, there always exist anomalies to this theory in the form of slightly more retarded brains who tend to send their thought processes via the toughest, most resistant route: these brains attempt to find the answer to the question: Why?

un-freaking-believable noise these people are capable of...yoda-speak... they should live with warning signs around their necks - "beware. close proximity might cause loss of hearing and/or sleep". i won't be surprised if this snoring causes an avalanche in the upper reaches of the himalayas...and fuck indian railways, man...stupid bastards can't ensure that anything will run as it should...cracked lines, of all things...and fuck these snoring bastards,too...

#1maybe this is a good way to catch all those ideas that whoosh through my idle moments like this one...although no bright ideas except this one are hitting me...but even a trickle is better than nothing.
#2BCH seems to live in a world of its own, especially since its not part of mine...its interesting to see that its not different from the other hostels, just that its general image has become that of a graveyard...i think languid is more apt...
#3i should always carry my keys with me. period.
#4there's a signboard that reads - DDA car parking. M2K cinema, Rohini, Plot no. 16. Pro.Brijesh Pal Singh (speed man).what's with the 'speed man' thing?
#5its so hard to admit failure...
#6the art of buttering braed. and other things.
#7michelangelo
#8archimedes
#9wonder what the start of my book will be like. hey, ladies? a 'don't know' statement? or will i play the sympathy-gainer character i have included in my repertoire of multiple personalities, as aptly put by someone i know? or will it be this, 'The Pros And Cons Of Going To BCH Mess?
#10commercialization is reaching its peak, i guess...even malls that have nothing to boast of are thronged by people...i wonder what they find in that...for that matter, what do i?

on the previous sheet(of paper, when i wrote this), i've practised the Root Locus Technique, essential for increasing my chances at the Control Systems exam i had. i didnn't remember a single stp when i saw the question. i'm too stubborn, i guess. even when i know the inevitable situation i'll be in, later. but like i've said and will keep saying, it's all in the hazy future. i don't worry about it. stupid thing to do. i should be worried. i should be mugging my ass off. or, atleast, i should be trying to. but i don't. i shouldn't have been here. i shouldn't have caved in under peer pressure and the opinion of leading educationalists to take admission. now i know that all those castles i'd built weren't meant to be. those castles weren't even built in air, they were built in the stratosphere. problem is, i don't know what my problem is. i don't know how i'll react to any situation or make any decision at any given point of time. i'll know the right thing to do, oh yes i will. but i can't be sure i'll do that right thing at that time. i'm not really good at anyhting. even those things i like, i can't do really well. i might brag about, yes, but i'm not going to be good at it. look at me. i'm not even doing what i want to. just the fact that i've taken a sep i'd wanted to, has cheered me up so much that i'm already fantasizing about life turning out exactly how i want it to. no thought for the monumental hurdles that lie in the way...

haven't written anything for a long while now...two or three days. and haven't written anything good for...like...forever. anyway - cricket. still have no clue what makes it so heart-throbbingly popular, but that doesn't stop me from coming up with stories and theories about that elusive reason...its a series of one-on-ones. batsman against bowler. and since the bat is so much larger than the ball (weapon being larger than target), advantage is added on the bowler's side in the form of his fielders and wicketkeeper. that is one interesting position on the field/street/rooftop/any nook and/or cranny. anyway - back to the duel theory - so the bout between two individuals becomes an interesting spectacle. people will choose their favorite and back him for whatever reasons they might have...the quirk of individuality. new ways to manage a few quick overs never cease coming up. i'm sure there will be a Guiness record someday for the "most unique playground for playing cricket" - a place with a setting which just manage to get ball to bat - literally. people play in streets and alleys, of course, and that's acceptable. so acceptable, in fact, that it's been christened universally and is now celebrated nationwide as gully cricket. gali cricket. galli cricket. gulli kirket. the 'gully' is a fielding position, too. i was a little confused when i encountered this problem at the impressionable age of...i don't know...11? 12? it doesn't matter, i remember i was impressionable. that was when i first thought about the insanity surrounding the game. just made up another theory...oh and since i'm writing, i might as well write to remember - Guard Duty At City Dump. interesting. now back to cricket. forgot. oh yeah. physical sport. i figure cricket is something which doesn't necessarily involve too much effort or risk of injury. especially tennis ball cricket. so since you got nothing to lose but time (and considering you've wasted most of it anyway, on studying and stuff), might as well play! so...cool. heading down for some Howzzat...

watching the incredible results of other people's creativity gives me the feeling of inferiority - again and again. do i have the kind of imagination it takes to write anything as remotely fascinating as Fight Club? i can entertain people when i speak, but i've given up on that avenue of life even before i've tried. simple reason - such tomfoolery will not be tolerated in the society that binds me. they may be right; i probably do not have the requisite talent in me; but the suffocation is enough to trample the mere thought of even trying. expectations exist only in the areas they consider good enough. no one - no one - believes i can do well in what i feel i'm made out for. discouragement is handed out in generous doles, and what little encouragement there is, its always wrapped in caution and non-interest. just so that incase (more like 'when') i fail, those same people can turn around and say the phrase "i told you so!". i guess it gives them the feeling of being proved right, the upper hand in the fortune-telling business that they assume they are running, taking children under their wings so that they can shape them to be the way they'd wanted themselves to be. no thought, no consideration for the fact that every individual might want to control his own destiny, choose for themselves the path they want to tread. uninteresting writing. no one will want to read this! and ultimately, that is what i have to aim for, right? to be accepted by the masses as 'worth a try'. i need my writing to earn me a living. i wonder (as i have for years) about all those names i read and respect in the papers (Indrajit Hazra, Vir Sanghvi, so many others but - stupid brain of mine - can't remember). how do they do it? how can i? will i ever?

i think the best bet is short stories. create a character and his situation, and use all these thoughts i have about people and emotions to validate their position. that's what i need to do. siphon my resentment and thoughts into believable people; form the foundation of my character on the base of my pessimism. when i think about it, it seems all so clear. every significant event in my life can have the basis for a totally different me; if i'd made a different choice at any forks on my road, i'd be different. for better or for worse, i can't say because i don't know. but definitely not here. so why can't i put it all down and get started on some serious writing? i know why. one major reason is that thoughts flow too fast to my brain, and when i start trying to hold them long enough to write them down, they end up sounding constrained and dead. and another reason - i am too self-obsessed.

waiting for something is such a drag...especially if you have nothing to do in the meantime. fortunately for me and unfortunately for you, i have this register and this pen so let me get on with this... GC. or General Conversation. there are more terms for the phenomenon, colorful and interesting ones, but they are not what you'd like to read. nudge. nudge. wink. wink. vapid case of plagiarism from Chuck Lorre, but hey, i'm atleast accepting that the guy is cool enough to "inspire" me, the way that babe was inspaired by someone's writing about getting laid and stuff...have really fallen behind on the music, literary and some more fronts...and even the future looks bleakin that context. there are lots of things i'd like to write about, but mostly the thought process wanders so much that i get tired even before i begin. like GC. got started, didn't write what i'd imagined i would, and have now ended up writing this. no clue as to how this happened. GC. i encounter it everywhere, participate in increasing or decreasing its volume in a few places, and note its effect on people. if i had a way to put all the conversations that i consider interesting, that'd be an achievement in the literary world.

i tried. this time i did. too little too late. regret is setting in, but i know i must avoid that. tomorrow is hopeless, and that starts off despair as well. will i ever be able to do all this? eventually i will have to, no matter what i do right now. it's just a matter of that ultimate bane - time. time management. that is the subject we need. yesterday while trying to sleep i was amazed by the speed and shape of thoughts going through my head...i can hardly remember any of it now, but even my dreams were moving seamlessly from one scene to another. every word, every phrase, every sentence triggered an avalanche of possibilities; and into one of these went my thoughts, only to be encountered with another tree of choice. choice - take it or leave it. yes or no. true or false. sad or happy. life or death. choice is everywhere.

i'm right here...writing to waste away the time i waste away waiting...maybe a brilliant idea will hit me in one of these idle moments and i'll hit the craetive bullseye...all i can do is hope, because every passing day intensifies the dejection in my mind. the feeling of being worthless is always lurking near the surface like a shark, ready to rear its head at the slightest opportunity...this is all counter-productive thinking, and yet i'm a slave to it...i hate it.

jesus! for half a minute or more i've been putting off putting pen to paper, just trying to get off to a perfect start...for what?i guess that's what everyone wishes for when they look back and see what mistakes they made and try and convince themselves that only if they'd got that perfect start, they wouildn't be feeling screwed right now. the 'if' hurdle again...if only i knew how to get over that hurdle...if only wishes were true... i read over 'poison' and struck me again how much advice i give myself...the tough part is acting on it. like being a part of the masses...how can i be part of something i don't understand? there's nothing wrong with the dorky stereotype. atleast i hope not, but i don't get it. why would anyone want to be like that? not my place to know, and i don't want to know. that;s my problem. or one of the major ones, atleast. i'm too stubborn to change. this is beginning to sound more like Zen than ever! was Pirsig high when he wrote all that? what a no-brainer. ofcourse he was! if he was normal when he went on about Quality, save me from his inevitable insanity surges - like Lila. another great work that falls neatly into hopped-up-author category is that tome of blubberingly insane sci-fi-comedy - The Hitch-Hiker's Guide To The Galaxy. notice i've written the initials in caps. hence, appreciate the effort i've put in to pay homage to Mr. Adams. now i'm beginning to name-drop like Greg Giraldo! speaking of which, did Pamela Anderson survive that Roast? dont' remember, don't care... ugh!what did i just write? man, plagiarism suits are gonna fly left and right...if only...not to mention any stiff-necked copyright laws... should've been doing some constructive stuff right now...but who cares? tomorrow's a new day. only problem is, i'll have to live through it. bweing ill is such a drag...for one, there's the fact that you're not alive enough to live life; you become a spectator to the world, unable to control your own part in the play. plus i get irritated by having to sit in one place. guess i'm gonna get up and go.

The Hitch-Hiker's Guide To The Galaxy is a wonderful book, just like the Guide itself. It's sort of a hope generator, carrying a message throughout the book that just when you're feeling you can't get any angrier/sadder/happier, something or the other WILL happen to make you angrier/sadder/happier. It's all fine really, because when it's all finally over you won't feel any worse for it. Everything turns out for the best, just that it only turns out right for varying lengths of time. Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster. Infinite Improbability Drive. Somebody Else's Problem Field. The HHGttG Mk II. Marvin. God's Final Message To His Creation. Flying. Babel Fish. Slartibartfast. Towel. Everything will work out okay if you know where your towel is. Don't Panic.

ladies and gentlemen...welcome to panache 2006. you are here to be entertained and we have worked hard to entertain you tonight. let me get straight to work and introduce the 6 finalist teams. they are : A, B, C, D, E, and F. congratulations on having made it to the front, teams. the order we will follow will be alphabetical, i.e. A to F.

survival in an all-out nuclear holocaust. now there's an interesting concept, to paraphrase Charlie. will have to give this more serious thought...

the futility of all this amuses me. just like almost everything else in life. perhaps people are accustomed enough to the brainless dispersal of knowledge. they can accept the system for what it is. wonder what these people do with the useless info they are fed...does this theory of people management this guy is teaching me ever gonna be of use to me? everything's so Blurry...have stopped thinking more than an hour ahead of the present. leading towards a vague future which somehow seems okay...even with the distortion and fuzziness...accept the present and move on. an apology makes them so happy...perhaps giving them the illusion of power...such fickle creatures...hmmm...'creature' actually rhymes with them... these days i find myself thinking more and morew about the whole store-life-digitally thing...it would be worth the trouble. another must-dosometime-in-life thing. the way to get by in this college is to remain in the masses...don't do anything out of the ordinary and you'll be just fine...too abd for me, i guess...can't stay put in a place and keep my head down. MUST move around and talk the hell outta everything...conversation for the sake of speaking is long gone. people will alays have points to prove, subtle messages to convey, gentle hints to give, snide remarks to pass. like the creature right now. talking normally, being sarcastic as hell...supremely sarcastic...yup, that was my response to that little speech... duh...all this would really (could really) be very useful if only i understood the sounds he emits with his wad of tobacco or whatever caught in his lower lip... regrets...and almost everytime a new bhasudi shows up i can add another regret to the list...something i could've done to avoid this...hindsight is a beautiful thing. makes me realize that i pay a price for having too much fun.

the celebrations of family events - bihar style. ...........will expound on this some other time,maybe...

All the snoring around me is driving me mad...can't these people clear out their sinuses before sleeping? Gross, and irritating to boot. Asses in life, don't have any decency whatsoever. Not even letting me sleep...still this does the good deed of reminding me of a very easily usable topic for writing - train travel. Easy because of the wide cross-section of humanity it boasts of. Very appealing. And this ain't the first time i'm thinking of it, either...good, good...Wodehouse uses a train journey to great effect.

everytime i read what i've written previously, i am weighed down by the feeling that this kind of stuff sounds good and interesting and illuminating only to me. why would anyone want to waste time on anything that doesn't concern them at all? its curiosity. its healthy, natural and 100% fat-free (unless, of course, your curiosities tend to be gastronomically inclined). its healthy to be curious for both you and me, because if you're reading this, you're aiding me to survive and have thus earned my gratitude without even knowing me. if that reason isn't enough to convince you to read on, i don't know what it... i have no idea how that paragraph ended like it did. neither do i remember what i'd wanted it to say when i started it. what i do recall is that i was in a bad mood at the start and by now i'm pretty tolerant...getting high has its advantages. my handwriting is slipping as well...

keep the mind occupied. working all the time, not letting it wander back to the sordid fact of having to face this place for a whole month. especially that fact. thirty days of...of...i don't know what and what's more, i don't WANT to know. i wish i had an escape from this.

The First

this is something new for me... although i had been contemplating it for a long while, ever since i first read about blogging. anyway - i don't have much clue what this blog is going to be about, so i'll get started by treating it as a storage bin of my ravings that i've written when without access to the net. let's see how it goes, aradhye...

a cascode amplifier...i've read about that somewhere before...remember having a dialogue aboutwhether it was a cascade or a cascode...i'd read it in another place before that, too, so i'd said it was actually cascode, but a cascade amp existed too...pretty arbit line of thought, really, but nevertheless this is the only reaction this question can induce me to give. only yesterday while going through the appendix of the electronics book (in a non-committal sort of way), i realized that that was information i needed, the knowledge i wanted. i don't want to know the values of voltages for which i'll get such and such currents or something, i am satisfied in knowing that large voltages in live wires will stand a good chance of killing me. that's it. what i do want to know is how i can use the things that are already made, to make my life better. and in the process if i find something that'll make it better for others as well, then good for them! i'm not even high right now and still i'm writing crap. just passing the time; like i've written on the question paper in between the printed lines of the questions, waiting is the worst thing that i have ever experienced. waiting alone with nothing going on, knowing that there are ways in which i would (could) be doing something useful in that time instead of...well, waiting. time is the problem here. half the time allotted for this exam has gone. i don't want to get out early before anyone else. so i guess i'll write on. nothing else to do except wait, which i hate. that rhymes. i think i should get a timetable and start following that. reason is it might help me utilize more time than now and in the process rid me of a little of the guilty feeling that's aalways on me - the knowledge of wasting time. watching it slip by like anglers watch the river go by on lazy saturday afternoons, inert and at peace. how they can be at peace in such a situtation is beyond me. must be a very self-satisfied lot, those anglers. i can't decide whether i like them or hate them. they just are. if i would've been in an angry mood, i guess i would've hated them. but i'm tolerant right now, of everything.