I was showing David the final copy of all my results on a project I had done on modeling an athlete's run profile.
"So you see David, this model basically shows that all top athletes running the 100 m dash have a similar run profile.
The reason Usain Bolt has created so many records is not only because of his body weight
(it is true that the bigger an animal is and the smaller its diameter, the faster it moves)
, though that is a primary factor, but also because of his perfect staging of the race by the adjustment of NOT only the dynamical factors but also the kinematic parameters!"
David, being my god father, allowed me to rave and rant in this strain for some more time. And then he told me some interesting things.
For people of the same age group and similar fitness, the person who has a long fourth finger (starting to count from the thumb)actually runs faster. There was even a paper published to this effect.
Now I'm not quite sure, how much of this is true or whether I have laid down the correct postulated conditions, but this assertion made perfect sense to me.
You see, I am currently reading 'The Origin of the species," and right at the beginning Darwin touches upon the subject of inheritance. He has remarked how certain traits go hand in hand. For example people who suffer from albinism have prickly hair and so on and so forth.
Could it not be possible that people who run faster have similar traits be they ever so imperceptible as the possession of a longer index finger?
I then realized what a complex study, a bio mechanical analysis really was. Not only did the kinematic and dynamic parameters come into play but also so many other genetic factors. Can a comprehensive, all encompassing theory ever be reached??
After talking about athletes for some more time, my conversation with the old flesh and blood took on another turn. We started talking about an alternative term to really measure a country's stature in the globe. All this time we've been using GDP. But hey! China's GDP >USA, but yet most of the population in China lives in poverty while I don't even have to talk about an average US citizen!
We then talked about GDP per capita and whether that was a good enough estimate. But David told me that the government of Bhutan had jumped one step further and had actually developed a happiness quotient for their citizens. I was really skeptical when I heard this and wondered how such a quotient could be measured.
David defended himself like this.
"Well Hinduism has actually defined the terms-Maya and Brahma. Maya is a term for everything that can be measured while Brahma is a term for everything spiritual. I can tell you how tall I am, but I can't measure my soul.
Humans, however, have always tried to come up with parameters to measure qualities. Initially IQ was a considered a good enough estimate as to how clever a person was. But now that has been replaced by EQ. Slowly and steadily we actually are coming steadily closer to characterizing our world.
Now, lets come to 'Beauty'. Is Beauty subjective? Yes? Well actually no. Even beauty has an element of objectivity to it. My students and i decided to test this. We had with us hundreds of photographs of people. These photographs spanned over 200 years (well since the time cameras came out). There was nothing special about these photographs. They were simply portraits of all these people with the same boring flat lighting.
Assume there were infinite of these photographs (you know the gaussian sample space and what not). We showed all these photos to many( again assume infinite) people and asked them to tell us which people they found beautiful. We saw that photographs of people like Denzil Washington were found universally beautiful!
Now many of the people we showed these photographs too probably had not heard of Denzil Washington. So you can't expect me to believe that they picked his profile because they knew of him. No!
Everyone picked profiles like Denzil Washington because they found his profile universally appealing. Do you know why? it's because his profile is SYMMETRIC! This is very rare. Most of our profiles are assymetric!"
David then dashed over to a beautiful huge old shell he had.
"Do you know why this is beautiful? This shell is acclaimed to be universally beautiful because it is a fractal! And what's the first thing that pops into your nut when you hear the word fractal?Yes!! It's the Fibonacci series! The golden ration. This shell's varying spirals follow this golden ration. And for some reason humanity en masse finds this enormously attractive."
I was amazed!! I had always assumed "qualities" like Beauty to be entirely subjective.
We went on to speak about other things. I wanted to know whether weed actually allowed you to visualise things better and so on and so forth.
"We-ell true, the Beatles composed some of their best work after Dylan introduced them to weed. But though this weed business has been hyped up, there were other factors that made them compose better. For one thing they went to their Maha Rishi. Meditation is another way of being able to transcend the materialistic world and think on a higher dimension.
Even a simple exercise like breathing enables us to perceive things more clearly. For instance, the air we breathe in is cooler than the air we breathe out. And we don;t even realise this! But if you sat all day and actually tried paying attention and focusing on our perceptions, we'd actually realise the difference in the temperature of the exhaled air and the inhaled air. We'd also realise that we breathe through one nostril at one point in time and later through the other nostril. This keeps oscillating. So basically this meditation or focusing allows us to perceive things more clearly and to be more aware of ourselves.
Every perception is impermanent, transitory, ephemeral. If a mosquito bit you and you just left your skin alone. For some time you'd experience pain and then after some time that sensation would depart.
Weed and meditation both make you transcend the physical world. They work in different ways though!! :D
"
David then asked me some questions on how I perceived the world. He wanted to know the difference between Illusions and Reality.
For instance, as I'm typing on this computer, the laptop screen appears some distance away from me. But actually that's false. The image of the laptop is on my retina!! And the image on my retina is in black and white! I've got the world on my retina!! And its only my brain which allows me to perceive things differently. Everybody perceives things differently because no body thinks in the same way.
After this conversation I was secretly wondering how anyone reached a consensus at all!! :D
David is a photographer. He's my uncle and also happens to be my god father. i love listening to him talk. he always has an interesting opinion on everything and a knack of telling you interesting things until you just don't want to leave!!
Well unfortunately that conversation had to end and here I am, with all these thoughts buzzing around in my head. I wanted to set them down so that you would buzz too. happy buzzing!! :)
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Saturday, December 5, 2009
Chilies, Brian May and me
TAP, Shrax and I sat at China House. All three of us were in a strangely contemplative mood. After a Sahara of endsems we had finally stumbled across an ocean of holidays and the thought of so much freedom immediately burdened us with a host of responsibilities.
Shrax ,as usual, was planning things to plan to plan to do :).
TAP was thinking about her department (She's in Chemical you see :P). She didn't tell us that she was thinking about this but her deep frown and our long experience was a dead give away :).
My mind was on other things. I was dreaming about Brian May....
TAP saw my dreamy expression and asked, "Charlton Heston?"
"No.."
"Don Mclean?"
"No."
"Bobby Fischer, Ringo Starr, P.G. Wodehouse, Somerse.."
"No, no, no!! I was thinking about Brian May! Dude, he's the most awesome guitarist ever!! I'm so crazy about him! Did you hear, "Don't Stop Me Now"? His guitar was almost speaking! That guitar is his own personal design. It's called a Red Special and he plays it using a coin as a pick! And he's an astrophysicist and he's published two papers and has co authored a book and..."
"And is a total studdax. Yeah, yeah... I know what you're going to say. But first of all Jimi Hendrix is God. Secondly John Mayer, Derek Trucks, and John Frusciante are ranked above Brian May in the top 100 guitarists of all time. Brian May is 39th. Thirdly he isn't even hot!"
"Dude who cares about stupid ratings! You can't compare guitarists like that! May is superb! Have you heard the song, "Hammer to Fall"? I bet you haven't because that's the only reason you aren't down on your knees worshiping that guy! And as for the last absolutely frivolous point, well let me tell you, looks don't matter if you're an astrophysicist!!"
I tried to make myself ignore the fact that I usually used the last argument to support MY case :). I fully expected TAP to knock me down flat on this point and I was thinking furiously about what to say in response! But I had under estimated TAP yet again!
She had a far more diabolical plan in store. She grinned evilly and said sweetly, "Well, you think Brian May is God right?"
"Yes!"
"And basically in ancient times, the Christians would allow themselves to be thrown to the lions rather than renounce their faith in their God right?"
"Ye-es."
"Well suppose they were asked to eat chillies instead of being thrown to the lions. They would do that immediately right?"
"Sure dumbass! I'm sure any person would rather eat chillies than be thrown to lions!"
"Excellent! We think alike in this at least. Well, if you believe Brian May is God, then why don't you eat this nice spoonful of chillies and prove it!"
I had a strange feeling that I was reliving the 'witch' scene in Monty Python. But I stuck my chin up. TAP had taken base advantage of my feelings, but I wasn't going to give in so easily. I looked down at the spoon she was holding and gasped.
TAP was holding a huge table spoon laden with chillies drowned in vinegar! My heart stopped in my mouth.
"We-ell, if you don't really care about Brian..then I bet-"
'Of course Brian is God. Here, give me that spoon." I said as nonchalantly as possible.
Before TAP could say another word, I had shoved the spoon in my mouth.
Dear Reader, I shall draw a curtain over the next 20 minutes that followed. All I can remember was that I repeatedly shouted for a fire extinguisher as I felt my throat was on fire. Shrax for the first time acted impromptu (there being no time to draw up a plan) and rushed me to Baskin and Robbins next door.
As for TAP, she was distraught! She thought she had killed me and in between laughing, she started rambling about things like 'self defense.'
4 mentos and an ice cream later we were back on campus.
The sky was overflowing with stars. TAP as usual was also overflowing with glee at this and kept on gloating over Jupiter and various constellations.
Tired out, she then sat down and said, "You know what..Brian May is damn good man!.."
I sighed with satisfaction. My suffering was not in vain!! :D
Shrax ,as usual, was planning things to plan to plan to do :).
TAP was thinking about her department (She's in Chemical you see :P). She didn't tell us that she was thinking about this but her deep frown and our long experience was a dead give away :).
My mind was on other things. I was dreaming about Brian May....
TAP saw my dreamy expression and asked, "Charlton Heston?"
"No.."
"Don Mclean?"
"No."
"Bobby Fischer, Ringo Starr, P.G. Wodehouse, Somerse.."
"No, no, no!! I was thinking about Brian May! Dude, he's the most awesome guitarist ever!! I'm so crazy about him! Did you hear, "Don't Stop Me Now"? His guitar was almost speaking! That guitar is his own personal design. It's called a Red Special and he plays it using a coin as a pick! And he's an astrophysicist and he's published two papers and has co authored a book and..."
"And is a total studdax. Yeah, yeah... I know what you're going to say. But first of all Jimi Hendrix is God. Secondly John Mayer, Derek Trucks, and John Frusciante are ranked above Brian May in the top 100 guitarists of all time. Brian May is 39th. Thirdly he isn't even hot!"
"Dude who cares about stupid ratings! You can't compare guitarists like that! May is superb! Have you heard the song, "Hammer to Fall"? I bet you haven't because that's the only reason you aren't down on your knees worshiping that guy! And as for the last absolutely frivolous point, well let me tell you, looks don't matter if you're an astrophysicist!!"
I tried to make myself ignore the fact that I usually used the last argument to support MY case :). I fully expected TAP to knock me down flat on this point and I was thinking furiously about what to say in response! But I had under estimated TAP yet again!
She had a far more diabolical plan in store. She grinned evilly and said sweetly, "Well, you think Brian May is God right?"
"Yes!"
"And basically in ancient times, the Christians would allow themselves to be thrown to the lions rather than renounce their faith in their God right?"
"Ye-es."
"Well suppose they were asked to eat chillies instead of being thrown to the lions. They would do that immediately right?"
"Sure dumbass! I'm sure any person would rather eat chillies than be thrown to lions!"
"Excellent! We think alike in this at least. Well, if you believe Brian May is God, then why don't you eat this nice spoonful of chillies and prove it!"
I had a strange feeling that I was reliving the 'witch' scene in Monty Python. But I stuck my chin up. TAP had taken base advantage of my feelings, but I wasn't going to give in so easily. I looked down at the spoon she was holding and gasped.
TAP was holding a huge table spoon laden with chillies drowned in vinegar! My heart stopped in my mouth.
"We-ell, if you don't really care about Brian..then I bet-"
'Of course Brian is God. Here, give me that spoon." I said as nonchalantly as possible.
Before TAP could say another word, I had shoved the spoon in my mouth.
Dear Reader, I shall draw a curtain over the next 20 minutes that followed. All I can remember was that I repeatedly shouted for a fire extinguisher as I felt my throat was on fire. Shrax for the first time acted impromptu (there being no time to draw up a plan) and rushed me to Baskin and Robbins next door.
As for TAP, she was distraught! She thought she had killed me and in between laughing, she started rambling about things like 'self defense.'
4 mentos and an ice cream later we were back on campus.
The sky was overflowing with stars. TAP as usual was also overflowing with glee at this and kept on gloating over Jupiter and various constellations.
Tired out, she then sat down and said, "You know what..Brian May is damn good man!.."
I sighed with satisfaction. My suffering was not in vain!! :D
Poems
Love
A mystical emotion filled with meaning
An understanding between two people
But yet stopping here is saying too little
Because love is really much more than this
So how do we describe it ?
This devouring emotion
This feeling so strangely common place
it is too sacred to try to dissect it
So maybe we should just let it be
Let it be and be real careful
Try to be strong and resist the temptation
Because if we are caught....
We may never have peace....
A mystical emotion filled with meaning
An understanding between two people
But yet stopping here is saying too little
Because love is really much more than this
So how do we describe it ?
This devouring emotion
This feeling so strangely common place
it is too sacred to try to dissect it
So maybe we should just let it be
Let it be and be real careful
Try to be strong and resist the temptation
Because if we are caught....
We may never have peace....
Dam burst of dreams
Months of sorrow
Frustrated ambitions
Dull and weary
full of inhibitions
And finally freedom
so frighteningly new
it took some time to get used to
And then thoughts flow
with old vividity
Butterflies and birds
god speed monotony
And then a total collapse
A tearing of seams
I give myself entirely
To my dam burst of dreams...
Frustrated ambitions
Dull and weary
full of inhibitions
And finally freedom
so frighteningly new
it took some time to get used to
And then thoughts flow
with old vividity
Butterflies and birds
god speed monotony
And then a total collapse
A tearing of seams
I give myself entirely
To my dam burst of dreams...
For the Glory of a Potato
For the glory of a Potato :D
I went down to my mess for dinner one night. It had been a lovely day and I was humming blissfully when suddenly I heard the words "Potatoes ..again". I stopped dead in my tracks. One can always tell what people mean when they use certain tones. And this tone definitely meant that if you replaced "again" with "daya MAX" it would amount to the same thing.
I was deeply moved and went up to the unwary owner of the "tone" and gave her a piece of mind in no uncertain terms. Didn't she know that potatoes were one of the things that made life worth living? Once ones teeth sank into the golden brown skin what bliss it was to sit there and savour the moment. Roast potatoes , boiled potatoes, fried potatoes and potatoes with butter! One cannot view potatoes as just another vegetable. They are not the "also ran"s. No Potatoes lie in their golden glory as the king of their kind.
So caught up was I in my eloquence that I had failed to realise that I was by now alone and the only thing paying any heed to me was the old magpie. it was eyeing me with beady eyes, waiting for left over scraps as usual. Why it ever bothers to come to our mess when h3 is just ahead is still beyond me. But I guess that if it could understand what i was saying it would definitely sympathize with me. Like me it has several times shown an intelligent understanding of potatoes. Comforted with this reflection i heaped some potatoes on my plate.
But the story does not end here. A few minutes later another one of the unenlightened ones came up to me and eyed my plate distastefully. "If you eat any more of those you'll end up like a potato yourself", she said. For the second time in 5 minutes I was choked with emotion.
"Thankyou", i finally managed to splutter. "What?!" and with a huff she had left me to my thoughts and my potatoes.
A potato is a living thing. i respect it tremendously . Not only does it allow itself to be buried in the belly of earth for weeks, but it suffers itself to be sacrificed for the rest of its race. Other potatoes spring from the buds or eyes of the parent and grow into gorgeous strapping representatives of its class.
Like humans there are many different types of potatoes. Sweet potatoes being one of my favourites. One can cook them using a variety of methods too. A potato is as whimsical as a woman. It has so many different shades of personality. When it is roasted we see the crispness of its character. When its boiled we see its softness. A potato is inherently a very gentlemanly object.
With all these wonderful attributes, i wonder if it is humanly possible to take offence when one is likened to one!
Therefore, I sincerely hope that next time you chance across a potato you will view it with the respect it deserves!!
:D
I went down to my mess for dinner one night. It had been a lovely day and I was humming blissfully when suddenly I heard the words "Potatoes ..again". I stopped dead in my tracks. One can always tell what people mean when they use certain tones. And this tone definitely meant that if you replaced "again" with "daya MAX" it would amount to the same thing.
I was deeply moved and went up to the unwary owner of the "tone" and gave her a piece of mind in no uncertain terms. Didn't she know that potatoes were one of the things that made life worth living? Once ones teeth sank into the golden brown skin what bliss it was to sit there and savour the moment. Roast potatoes , boiled potatoes, fried potatoes and potatoes with butter! One cannot view potatoes as just another vegetable. They are not the "also ran"s. No Potatoes lie in their golden glory as the king of their kind.
So caught up was I in my eloquence that I had failed to realise that I was by now alone and the only thing paying any heed to me was the old magpie. it was eyeing me with beady eyes, waiting for left over scraps as usual. Why it ever bothers to come to our mess when h3 is just ahead is still beyond me. But I guess that if it could understand what i was saying it would definitely sympathize with me. Like me it has several times shown an intelligent understanding of potatoes. Comforted with this reflection i heaped some potatoes on my plate.
But the story does not end here. A few minutes later another one of the unenlightened ones came up to me and eyed my plate distastefully. "If you eat any more of those you'll end up like a potato yourself", she said. For the second time in 5 minutes I was choked with emotion.
"Thankyou", i finally managed to splutter. "What?!" and with a huff she had left me to my thoughts and my potatoes.
A potato is a living thing. i respect it tremendously . Not only does it allow itself to be buried in the belly of earth for weeks, but it suffers itself to be sacrificed for the rest of its race. Other potatoes spring from the buds or eyes of the parent and grow into gorgeous strapping representatives of its class.
Like humans there are many different types of potatoes. Sweet potatoes being one of my favourites. One can cook them using a variety of methods too. A potato is as whimsical as a woman. It has so many different shades of personality. When it is roasted we see the crispness of its character. When its boiled we see its softness. A potato is inherently a very gentlemanly object.
With all these wonderful attributes, i wonder if it is humanly possible to take offence when one is likened to one!
Therefore, I sincerely hope that next time you chance across a potato you will view it with the respect it deserves!!
:D
Progress...or is it?
"Progress"..........or is it?
A couple of days ago, I attended a panel discussion on the future of energy. One of the panellists was a very distinguished academician who is on the planning board for many of the energy schemes. He told us that the real aim of the energy planning scheme is to produce more energy to increase the overall energy consumption in India.
We all know that the energy consumption of a country is taken as in index of the country's progress and the different rates of energy consumption can be used to compare how "developed" a country is with respect to other countries.
I do not agree with the idea that consumption of resources="progress of a country"
I think the situation is more compliacated.
Once upon a time, a really long time ago, man was forced to walk to his destination. he would get tired and longed for an easier method of transport. Nowadays he just hops into a car and speeds of to his destination saving time and energy. So we have progressed right and the rate of progress can be actually computed by calculating the relative energy consumptions. But there are other factors that we have not taken into account. for instance, the emissions produced by the car! These emissions have caused green house warming. The world has now reached the tipping point in terms of climate change. So have we really progressed to the extent indicated by the above parameter?
An additional point I want to mention is that though say in 2012 the GDP of china will actually overtake the American GDP china will stay not be classified as a developed nation. This is because there is still a huge discrepancy in the distribution of wealth. So even though the planning commissions work out in India and China, will the country really be progressing, or will the rich just consume more and more and the poor remain in their present state?
Lastly, I believe that the resources of the country have to be taken into account when measuring the development indicators. The average US citizen is consuming several fold times what an average Indian citizen consumes. The energy demands of the US have far exceeded its supply capabilities. The US is then forced to import. We all know that the US is in debt. We know that right now the economic conditions in the US are bad. Somewhere soon the US will have to cut its demand. Its going to be hard for an American citizen to give up comforts he had earlier taken as rights. so do we have to think again and reanalyse our parameters for measuring progress.
I think we have behaved like an exceedingly short sighted race.
Now the question comes to what parameters can we really look into. Lets broadly classify man's priorities. They are housing, agriculture, transport and communication, industrial growth and health care.
I would have thought that health care would be an important parameter to measure progress. However, i think that health care is an important factor for measuring man's social progress. What about progress in the economic sector etc. They are not completley dependent variables. So now this seems complicated. how do we find an overall index that will quantify the progress of a nation. How do we quantify sustainable development of a country.
The next thing am going to say may sound exceedingly cynical. i do not believe in sustainable development. I just believe in sustainable technology. What I mean to say is that we devise new technologies to take care of existing problems. These technologies produce a whole new set of problems which have to be solved. Therefore another avenue of technology must be opened. This leads to a never ending chain of problems and solutions. is there a way to break this chain??
And the answer is I don't know. i have no idea how we're going to proceed in the future. I have no idea how we are going to get hold of a parameter which will really truly tell us which way the world is going, whether we are screwing ourselves in the future for solving problems of the present. I have no idea how we are going to be able to make allowances for our parameter making allowances for our inability to see into the future and predice possible side effects.
In short i am a confused soul and would welcome any comments suggestions from you!!!
A couple of days ago, I attended a panel discussion on the future of energy. One of the panellists was a very distinguished academician who is on the planning board for many of the energy schemes. He told us that the real aim of the energy planning scheme is to produce more energy to increase the overall energy consumption in India.
We all know that the energy consumption of a country is taken as in index of the country's progress and the different rates of energy consumption can be used to compare how "developed" a country is with respect to other countries.
I do not agree with the idea that consumption of resources="progress of a country"
I think the situation is more compliacated.
Once upon a time, a really long time ago, man was forced to walk to his destination. he would get tired and longed for an easier method of transport. Nowadays he just hops into a car and speeds of to his destination saving time and energy. So we have progressed right and the rate of progress can be actually computed by calculating the relative energy consumptions. But there are other factors that we have not taken into account. for instance, the emissions produced by the car! These emissions have caused green house warming. The world has now reached the tipping point in terms of climate change. So have we really progressed to the extent indicated by the above parameter?
An additional point I want to mention is that though say in 2012 the GDP of china will actually overtake the American GDP china will stay not be classified as a developed nation. This is because there is still a huge discrepancy in the distribution of wealth. So even though the planning commissions work out in India and China, will the country really be progressing, or will the rich just consume more and more and the poor remain in their present state?
Lastly, I believe that the resources of the country have to be taken into account when measuring the development indicators. The average US citizen is consuming several fold times what an average Indian citizen consumes. The energy demands of the US have far exceeded its supply capabilities. The US is then forced to import. We all know that the US is in debt. We know that right now the economic conditions in the US are bad. Somewhere soon the US will have to cut its demand. Its going to be hard for an American citizen to give up comforts he had earlier taken as rights. so do we have to think again and reanalyse our parameters for measuring progress.
I think we have behaved like an exceedingly short sighted race.
Now the question comes to what parameters can we really look into. Lets broadly classify man's priorities. They are housing, agriculture, transport and communication, industrial growth and health care.
I would have thought that health care would be an important parameter to measure progress. However, i think that health care is an important factor for measuring man's social progress. What about progress in the economic sector etc. They are not completley dependent variables. So now this seems complicated. how do we find an overall index that will quantify the progress of a nation. How do we quantify sustainable development of a country.
The next thing am going to say may sound exceedingly cynical. i do not believe in sustainable development. I just believe in sustainable technology. What I mean to say is that we devise new technologies to take care of existing problems. These technologies produce a whole new set of problems which have to be solved. Therefore another avenue of technology must be opened. This leads to a never ending chain of problems and solutions. is there a way to break this chain??
And the answer is I don't know. i have no idea how we're going to proceed in the future. I have no idea how we are going to get hold of a parameter which will really truly tell us which way the world is going, whether we are screwing ourselves in the future for solving problems of the present. I have no idea how we are going to be able to make allowances for our parameter making allowances for our inability to see into the future and predice possible side effects.
In short i am a confused soul and would welcome any comments suggestions from you!!!
The River
High up in the mountains
Amidst rocky terrain
The weather was harsh
Lashed by the rain
A river was born
it strived to get by
Past bitter cold
To summer skies
It was one of the few
That managed to pass
Into a land of plenty
Where opportunites were vast
And now again
It was called upon
To find its way
its heart ,its goal
to redefine terms
through paths unknown
It sleepily swirled through
long drawn out days
To reflect the stars
In the soft midnight haze
It listened to the advice
of older spirits
and found it good
and acted upon it
But yet it always knew
That what lay beyond
would be forever unknown
It had to grow up
It had to move on
Amidst rocky terrain
The weather was harsh
Lashed by the rain
A river was born
it strived to get by
Past bitter cold
To summer skies
It was one of the few
That managed to pass
Into a land of plenty
Where opportunites were vast
And now again
It was called upon
To find its way
its heart ,its goal
to redefine terms
through paths unknown
It sleepily swirled through
long drawn out days
To reflect the stars
In the soft midnight haze
It listened to the advice
of older spirits
and found it good
and acted upon it
But yet it always knew
That what lay beyond
would be forever unknown
It had to grow up
It had to move on
run out of titles
“ I will always love you.” The voice was tender, magical, rich and vibrant. It sent the blood pulsing through her veins like fire. She sat motionless. Slowly the camera shifted and the heroine came into view. She felt numb as she saw the inevitable happen.
The kiss was wonderful. Starting off with a strange kind of passionate languor, like a hand gently dabbling in the water of a still lagoon. And ending like the warmth of the sun glowing like a drop of blood.
The young man next to her took her hand. Hot tears filled her eyes. “Don’t cry darling,” he whispered. Dimly she realised that other couples were sitting around them, and in each case they were similarly affected by the scene. She grew hot and angry, identifying in some obscure way the difference between their emotion and hers.
She knew then, as the camera shifted back again that she loved him. Loved him, loved him. Every fibre of her body thrilled to the fact. Yes, he was one of the most famous actors in Hollywood right then. Yes, she would probably never ever see him in real life. But the emotion that he aroused in her made her feel that her entire life was meaningless without him. When he spoke, the feeling in his voice, his looks and every little gesture seemed calculated to drive her mad!
Their tears were insignificant. They were merely moved with pity by the scene. Hers were of passion.
She wished he would release her hand. He was trying to comfort her now. He thought that she was simply affected by the scene. Just like any one of the other girls in the audience. Oh! How could he not guess what she felt. But he was like that, nice, friendly and reliable. Everyone had said how lucky she was when they had announced their engagement and how well suited they were. She had liked him very much and was attached to him. She couldn’t hurt him for the world. But her thoughts were in utter disarray as she analysed her new feelings.
The lights suddenly came on. The play had been played out. The movie was over. They got up to leave just like everybody else.
She was rather silent on the way home. He was in great spirits. He had had a wonderful day and had enjoyed himself. He didn’t even realise that she was upset. They had reached her home.
“Good bye dear,” he said. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow then.” He kissed her good bye and waved his hat gaily as he drove off.
The night was cool and fresh. She sat down on the stairs. “Tomorrow…”. The thought hung heavily in the air. Like some eastern drug clogging her senses. Her mind was filled with a hundred doubts, trepidations and fears. Should she break off with him?
And then suddenly the absurdity of it all struck her and she burst into a peal of laughter. She got up and started climbing.
The memory of the film was already growing dim.
The kiss was wonderful. Starting off with a strange kind of passionate languor, like a hand gently dabbling in the water of a still lagoon. And ending like the warmth of the sun glowing like a drop of blood.
The young man next to her took her hand. Hot tears filled her eyes. “Don’t cry darling,” he whispered. Dimly she realised that other couples were sitting around them, and in each case they were similarly affected by the scene. She grew hot and angry, identifying in some obscure way the difference between their emotion and hers.
She knew then, as the camera shifted back again that she loved him. Loved him, loved him. Every fibre of her body thrilled to the fact. Yes, he was one of the most famous actors in Hollywood right then. Yes, she would probably never ever see him in real life. But the emotion that he aroused in her made her feel that her entire life was meaningless without him. When he spoke, the feeling in his voice, his looks and every little gesture seemed calculated to drive her mad!
Their tears were insignificant. They were merely moved with pity by the scene. Hers were of passion.
She wished he would release her hand. He was trying to comfort her now. He thought that she was simply affected by the scene. Just like any one of the other girls in the audience. Oh! How could he not guess what she felt. But he was like that, nice, friendly and reliable. Everyone had said how lucky she was when they had announced their engagement and how well suited they were. She had liked him very much and was attached to him. She couldn’t hurt him for the world. But her thoughts were in utter disarray as she analysed her new feelings.
The lights suddenly came on. The play had been played out. The movie was over. They got up to leave just like everybody else.
She was rather silent on the way home. He was in great spirits. He had had a wonderful day and had enjoyed himself. He didn’t even realise that she was upset. They had reached her home.
“Good bye dear,” he said. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow then.” He kissed her good bye and waved his hat gaily as he drove off.
The night was cool and fresh. She sat down on the stairs. “Tomorrow…”. The thought hung heavily in the air. Like some eastern drug clogging her senses. Her mind was filled with a hundred doubts, trepidations and fears. Should she break off with him?
And then suddenly the absurdity of it all struck her and she burst into a peal of laughter. She got up and started climbing.
The memory of the film was already growing dim.
Cabbages and Kings
i stepped out of the bus with an overwhelming sense of relief. Relief for having escaped from the stifling odour of damp cloth, from the pervasive air of weariness and worst of all from the atmosphere of suffocation and decay.
Poets, philosophers and now newspapers glorify mankind. I dare the next horn rimmed, pale bespectacled poet that passes by, to sit for an hour in a crowded BEST bus in Mumbai on a rainy day and still be able to say that he loves his neighbour. i dare him to talk about "the loftiness of spirit and of ideals" as he sits next to a set of grimy saleswomen shrieking to each other about their day's happenings.
Thats the trouble. Ayn Rand talks about objectivism. In her book "the fountain head" she ridicules collectivism. But honestly, sometimes I feel that we give the self, the genius, the ego too much importance. We build up a picture in our heads of perfection, of what we should be. And then we fail to see our own faults. We see them as externalities. When really, they are part of us. And unless we do this, transcedence becomes impossible and we will be as near becoming like Howard Roark as a reflection of the moon in a whirlpool is of becoming the moon itself.
Armed with these dreary thoughts, I marched through the mud on my way home. The streets were dark and the people passing by clinging to their umbrellas seemed to be like jelly fish emitting an inky darkness as if trying to cloak themselves from my view. I carried on
Suddenly a bright light in a nearby shop attracted my attention. I paused and then smiled. I let myself into the shop.
The place I had entered was a bookstore. For me, when I dream of a bookshop. I imagine a dark cool room brim full of books, lit only by the eerie light of candles. i see shelves shooting up to the sky. i see an ancient manager sitting at his desk wheezing away as he writes letter. i can almost smell the deep, satisfying aroma of paper in the air. how I would love to browse in this paradise. fingering the books, as old friends. That I think is my idea of heaven.
The shop i entered was as alike to my dream as a mideival gothic church is to an apartment house. First of all it had electric lighting. Secondly it was large, airy and comfortable. thirdly the manager at the desk was quite young and he was not writing letters but leaning on his desk. There was no reverence in his manner for the temple that he was guarding. There was merely boredom and if I could read minds I would bet that his was on lunch.
But there was one similarity which annulled all the rest. There were books everywhere. it was enough.
The guard at the door recognized me and smiled as he took my bag. "Abhi ithni jaldi vaapas aa gayi madam." i smiled. this was the only place I was not uncomfortable of being myself. simply me. no pretenses. no "yeh toh sahib ki beti hai". As soon as I took a book in my hands, my soul lay naked before it. It lay like a sponge, absorbing the words. And when i put the book down, my soul was not as it was before, but stronger and more defined. It may have been but a word or a paragraph but it had entered me and was me then.
I walked through the racks and racks of books. At first, i recognised all my old friends the classics. I stopped to just enjoy the pleasure of running my hand down the books spine and reviving memories.I wonder what the definition of a classic really is. Yes, i know that I'd have to merely look at the definition in a dicitionary. But what does a "classic" really mean to me?
I think reading a classic is like enjoying a multi course meal. It's not the entree' or the soup or even the dessert that stands out. But one feels that one has experienced everything and one is satisifed and it was good. That was it! A classic satisifies you. Every part of you.
I know now why I prefer Maugham to Ayn rand. They both have a certain philosophy, thats true. But Ayn rand, leaves me far behind. I feel lost, another "in betweener". maugham tells me what I am. He tells me that it is not bad.He reassures me. Rand frightens me.
i then glanced at the new arrivals. i looked indifferently at some books. They were "bestsellers". like the mills and boons series. there was an authoress everyone seemed passioantely fond of Louis L'amour.They were all full of sordid romance and action. Those books had a different air from the others. They seemed to be cringing and almost apologizing for the horrendous nonsense that lay between their covers. I knew that if I hd a name like Louis L'amour stamped across me. i would be ashamed too.
an hour later. Wistful galnces at certain books. A quick check at the price written at the back. A feeling of shock. i knew it was time to leave. I stepped out of that little shop and turned to face the world. I was comforted I knew I had friends back there.
Poets, philosophers and now newspapers glorify mankind. I dare the next horn rimmed, pale bespectacled poet that passes by, to sit for an hour in a crowded BEST bus in Mumbai on a rainy day and still be able to say that he loves his neighbour. i dare him to talk about "the loftiness of spirit and of ideals" as he sits next to a set of grimy saleswomen shrieking to each other about their day's happenings.
Thats the trouble. Ayn Rand talks about objectivism. In her book "the fountain head" she ridicules collectivism. But honestly, sometimes I feel that we give the self, the genius, the ego too much importance. We build up a picture in our heads of perfection, of what we should be. And then we fail to see our own faults. We see them as externalities. When really, they are part of us. And unless we do this, transcedence becomes impossible and we will be as near becoming like Howard Roark as a reflection of the moon in a whirlpool is of becoming the moon itself.
Armed with these dreary thoughts, I marched through the mud on my way home. The streets were dark and the people passing by clinging to their umbrellas seemed to be like jelly fish emitting an inky darkness as if trying to cloak themselves from my view. I carried on
Suddenly a bright light in a nearby shop attracted my attention. I paused and then smiled. I let myself into the shop.
The place I had entered was a bookstore. For me, when I dream of a bookshop. I imagine a dark cool room brim full of books, lit only by the eerie light of candles. i see shelves shooting up to the sky. i see an ancient manager sitting at his desk wheezing away as he writes letter. i can almost smell the deep, satisfying aroma of paper in the air. how I would love to browse in this paradise. fingering the books, as old friends. That I think is my idea of heaven.
The shop i entered was as alike to my dream as a mideival gothic church is to an apartment house. First of all it had electric lighting. Secondly it was large, airy and comfortable. thirdly the manager at the desk was quite young and he was not writing letters but leaning on his desk. There was no reverence in his manner for the temple that he was guarding. There was merely boredom and if I could read minds I would bet that his was on lunch.
But there was one similarity which annulled all the rest. There were books everywhere. it was enough.
The guard at the door recognized me and smiled as he took my bag. "Abhi ithni jaldi vaapas aa gayi madam." i smiled. this was the only place I was not uncomfortable of being myself. simply me. no pretenses. no "yeh toh sahib ki beti hai". As soon as I took a book in my hands, my soul lay naked before it. It lay like a sponge, absorbing the words. And when i put the book down, my soul was not as it was before, but stronger and more defined. It may have been but a word or a paragraph but it had entered me and was me then.
I walked through the racks and racks of books. At first, i recognised all my old friends the classics. I stopped to just enjoy the pleasure of running my hand down the books spine and reviving memories.I wonder what the definition of a classic really is. Yes, i know that I'd have to merely look at the definition in a dicitionary. But what does a "classic" really mean to me?
I think reading a classic is like enjoying a multi course meal. It's not the entree' or the soup or even the dessert that stands out. But one feels that one has experienced everything and one is satisifed and it was good. That was it! A classic satisifies you. Every part of you.
I know now why I prefer Maugham to Ayn rand. They both have a certain philosophy, thats true. But Ayn rand, leaves me far behind. I feel lost, another "in betweener". maugham tells me what I am. He tells me that it is not bad.He reassures me. Rand frightens me.
i then glanced at the new arrivals. i looked indifferently at some books. They were "bestsellers". like the mills and boons series. there was an authoress everyone seemed passioantely fond of Louis L'amour.They were all full of sordid romance and action. Those books had a different air from the others. They seemed to be cringing and almost apologizing for the horrendous nonsense that lay between their covers. I knew that if I hd a name like Louis L'amour stamped across me. i would be ashamed too.
an hour later. Wistful galnces at certain books. A quick check at the price written at the back. A feeling of shock. i knew it was time to leave. I stepped out of that little shop and turned to face the world. I was comforted I knew I had friends back there.
And Why the Sea is Boiling hot
She lay sprawled across the bed. Books were spread in wild disarray all around her and on top of her. There were all types of books. Richard Dawkin’s book, “The God Delusion”, lay peacefully side by side with a copy of the Bible. “The Seven Gables” balefully glared at a P.G. Wodehouse opposite. The “Origin of the Species” seemed to be gleaming superciliously at a love story lying half hidden before it. The Fountainhead was half open, and “The Razor’s Edge lay tucked between snugly its pages.
The girl looked like some kind of mermaid as she lay there. The books all over her seemed to resemble a mermaid’s tail as they shone dully in the dim light. She looked like some mythical, fantastic creature of folk lore. Slowly, she stirred and sat up on the bed. The books slipped off her as easily as a robe. She listened for a moment to the rustle of the paper. Then, got up and walked slowly to the mirror at the other end of the room.
She looked carefully at the face before her. She was suddenly overwhelmed with curiosity to see what other saw her as. The broad forehead, the brown eyes and the determined mouth spoke of intelligence. The chin was sensitive. She smiled and saw dimples peeping out. The face was not extra ordinary. It looked just like any other eighteen year olds face. She was mildly surprised. She had been prepared for anything else but this.
She sat down on the edge of a chair. The rain pouring outside seemed to be in some queer rhythm with her thoughts. She was thinking about her life. Ever since she was a child she had possessed the “Midas touch”. She was good at everything she set her hand to. If she wanted to do something, a little concentrated effort, and the thing was done. Everyone had envied her. She had felt nothing. Not even satisfaction. The thrill was all gone. She thought of herself as a mowing machine. Built only, to take up a task and raze it.
She thought of the time she had gone to the terrace and sat on the railing. The ground seemed miles and miles below. The people there looked like tiny bug as they scurried their ways. They did not touch her, just as her thoughts had not even begun to touch the surface. But she knew that everyone’s life was interconnected. She paid for their wrongs. Just as each one of them suffered because of her. Good and evil. They both could produce that cascading effect. But what were they really? Could one feel them, touch them? Did they even matter?
She had swayed there in the breeze just like a leaf adrift in the wind. The thought of falling did not scare her. She remembered how she had examined the possibility with a strange kind of impersonal interest. Was life so important? Did it have a meaning?
The memory seemed so real! She shook herself free from it and turned and looked at the heap of books. Suddenly, their titles no longer seemed random and disconnected. Instead, they formed a pattern, a web of beliefs in which she was enmeshed. She gazed hypnotically at them like a fly waits helplessly for the spider to strike.
The girl looked like some kind of mermaid as she lay there. The books all over her seemed to resemble a mermaid’s tail as they shone dully in the dim light. She looked like some mythical, fantastic creature of folk lore. Slowly, she stirred and sat up on the bed. The books slipped off her as easily as a robe. She listened for a moment to the rustle of the paper. Then, got up and walked slowly to the mirror at the other end of the room.
She looked carefully at the face before her. She was suddenly overwhelmed with curiosity to see what other saw her as. The broad forehead, the brown eyes and the determined mouth spoke of intelligence. The chin was sensitive. She smiled and saw dimples peeping out. The face was not extra ordinary. It looked just like any other eighteen year olds face. She was mildly surprised. She had been prepared for anything else but this.
She sat down on the edge of a chair. The rain pouring outside seemed to be in some queer rhythm with her thoughts. She was thinking about her life. Ever since she was a child she had possessed the “Midas touch”. She was good at everything she set her hand to. If she wanted to do something, a little concentrated effort, and the thing was done. Everyone had envied her. She had felt nothing. Not even satisfaction. The thrill was all gone. She thought of herself as a mowing machine. Built only, to take up a task and raze it.
She thought of the time she had gone to the terrace and sat on the railing. The ground seemed miles and miles below. The people there looked like tiny bug as they scurried their ways. They did not touch her, just as her thoughts had not even begun to touch the surface. But she knew that everyone’s life was interconnected. She paid for their wrongs. Just as each one of them suffered because of her. Good and evil. They both could produce that cascading effect. But what were they really? Could one feel them, touch them? Did they even matter?
She had swayed there in the breeze just like a leaf adrift in the wind. The thought of falling did not scare her. She remembered how she had examined the possibility with a strange kind of impersonal interest. Was life so important? Did it have a meaning?
The memory seemed so real! She shook herself free from it and turned and looked at the heap of books. Suddenly, their titles no longer seemed random and disconnected. Instead, they formed a pattern, a web of beliefs in which she was enmeshed. She gazed hypnotically at them like a fly waits helplessly for the spider to strike.
How K nearly didn't get a birthday present and how S nearly died
After a long and intense discussion, S and i decided to buy K a shirt for a birthday present. S had initally wanted to gift K a football, but due to the fight which ensued as to which color ( I was strongly for pink) we desisted and decided to compromise.
And that is why we found ourselves walking into the new Reliance mall.
As soon as we walked in, I confess I may have appeared a bit distracted, S had to forcibly drag me away from a stack of dresses up the stairs and to the guys clothes section. I told him coldly that I found his behaviour most unreasonable and impatient. After all, I was only going to take a moment! S just rolled his eyes and said that it was a very long moment indeed. I sniffed in injured silence.
We started on our quest for the "perfect shirt". As I went through the racks of shirts I was suddenly overwhelmed by a deep pity for guys in general. They didn't seem to have much of a choice when it came to clothes. I thought of the exotic ladies section downstairs. I thought of the endless variety of colors and styles we had to choose from. I sighed heavily as I turned back to the shirts at hand." You just couldn't tell one from another".
However, I did find a few shirts that I liked. S however, didn't seem to agree with my choice. Everytime, he would blanche at the different shade of pink i held up for him to inspect untill i got quite exasperated. I mean honestly! A pink is an honest color. Its soft and self respecting and an entirely perfect choice. S, however seemed to have very dark misgivings and so in the end I sighed and gave up and started browsing amongst the blacks and browns as he suggested.
You may laugh at the choices I had made. But I assure you, S didn't come up with any better. He picked up the most revolting shade of blue, apparently much pleased with himself and asked me what i thought. He seemed so pleased that I had to forcible restrain myself from smashing his bubble of happiness to pieces. However, i had K's interests at heart and I knew I would hang myself before I let any friend of mine drape any sort of cloth around them of THAT particular color.
I cleverly managed the situation by telling S that the color was just a teensy weensy tad too bright and maybe K wouldnt get a splendid enough occasion to wear it soon. S agreed crestfallen. "It's my favorite color you know", he said sadly and left me gasping and spluttering for breath with this confession as he trundled away to look at some more shirts.
That did it! I watched his movements like a hawk. At last we had narrowed our choices down to two shirts. One was black and very repectable. The other was brown and I had to grudgingly admit that it WAS the nicest non pink shirt we had come across so far.
After tossing a coin, we picked the brown.
We raced down the stairs joyfully with our precious purchase. S and I were feeling very compacent and smug. But as we reached the ground floor I saw a shimmer through the corner of my eye. I turned abruptly. There lined up before me were tonnes and tonnes of earrings. It was like something from one of my favorite dreams! S turned too late and saw what i was looking at. "Hey!" he said plaintively. "We dont really have time for that you know"
But I was already headed there. What could I do? I was as powerless as a a piece of iron in the magnetic field of some strong magnet.
i shall not describe to you the tortures S suffered. At the outset I handed him my bag and parcels and concentrated solely on reveerntly fingering the gorgeous beauties before me. I weighed the merits of pink hearts with blue butterflies. I thought furiously about green danglies and glittering studs. My head was a mass of calculations, permutations and combinations. Even s looked at me awed.
Finally, I hd sealed my choice. I looked at my watch guiltily. We had spent approximately the same time on buying a pair of earrings as we had taken for the shirt!
S and I hurried outside. His expression was unpleasant. It was as if he had swalloed something very nasty. I looked at him in concern. "Girls!" he said in disgust! And as if that had relieved his feelings, his features straightened out and he grinned. 'i'm never coming shopping with you again" he declared.
I sighed. I had been prepared for that.
NOTE: THE BEST PART: THE SHIRT DID NOT FIT :-o :D
And that is why we found ourselves walking into the new Reliance mall.
As soon as we walked in, I confess I may have appeared a bit distracted, S had to forcibly drag me away from a stack of dresses up the stairs and to the guys clothes section. I told him coldly that I found his behaviour most unreasonable and impatient. After all, I was only going to take a moment! S just rolled his eyes and said that it was a very long moment indeed. I sniffed in injured silence.
We started on our quest for the "perfect shirt". As I went through the racks of shirts I was suddenly overwhelmed by a deep pity for guys in general. They didn't seem to have much of a choice when it came to clothes. I thought of the exotic ladies section downstairs. I thought of the endless variety of colors and styles we had to choose from. I sighed heavily as I turned back to the shirts at hand." You just couldn't tell one from another".
However, I did find a few shirts that I liked. S however, didn't seem to agree with my choice. Everytime, he would blanche at the different shade of pink i held up for him to inspect untill i got quite exasperated. I mean honestly! A pink is an honest color. Its soft and self respecting and an entirely perfect choice. S, however seemed to have very dark misgivings and so in the end I sighed and gave up and started browsing amongst the blacks and browns as he suggested.
You may laugh at the choices I had made. But I assure you, S didn't come up with any better. He picked up the most revolting shade of blue, apparently much pleased with himself and asked me what i thought. He seemed so pleased that I had to forcible restrain myself from smashing his bubble of happiness to pieces. However, i had K's interests at heart and I knew I would hang myself before I let any friend of mine drape any sort of cloth around them of THAT particular color.
I cleverly managed the situation by telling S that the color was just a teensy weensy tad too bright and maybe K wouldnt get a splendid enough occasion to wear it soon. S agreed crestfallen. "It's my favorite color you know", he said sadly and left me gasping and spluttering for breath with this confession as he trundled away to look at some more shirts.
That did it! I watched his movements like a hawk. At last we had narrowed our choices down to two shirts. One was black and very repectable. The other was brown and I had to grudgingly admit that it WAS the nicest non pink shirt we had come across so far.
After tossing a coin, we picked the brown.
We raced down the stairs joyfully with our precious purchase. S and I were feeling very compacent and smug. But as we reached the ground floor I saw a shimmer through the corner of my eye. I turned abruptly. There lined up before me were tonnes and tonnes of earrings. It was like something from one of my favorite dreams! S turned too late and saw what i was looking at. "Hey!" he said plaintively. "We dont really have time for that you know"
But I was already headed there. What could I do? I was as powerless as a a piece of iron in the magnetic field of some strong magnet.
i shall not describe to you the tortures S suffered. At the outset I handed him my bag and parcels and concentrated solely on reveerntly fingering the gorgeous beauties before me. I weighed the merits of pink hearts with blue butterflies. I thought furiously about green danglies and glittering studs. My head was a mass of calculations, permutations and combinations. Even s looked at me awed.
Finally, I hd sealed my choice. I looked at my watch guiltily. We had spent approximately the same time on buying a pair of earrings as we had taken for the shirt!
S and I hurried outside. His expression was unpleasant. It was as if he had swalloed something very nasty. I looked at him in concern. "Girls!" he said in disgust! And as if that had relieved his feelings, his features straightened out and he grinned. 'i'm never coming shopping with you again" he declared.
I sighed. I had been prepared for that.
NOTE: THE BEST PART: THE SHIRT DID NOT FIT :-o :D
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
The Gu(i)lti Secret
There are all sorts of people in the world. Some like Monty Python…some don't. Some are obsessed with the colour pink, have a great fashion sense, wear ultra fantastic earrings and are generally the coolest people on the planet…and well some just aren't. Some lead the exemplary life of a nerd…while others dare to explore. There are butchers, bakers, candle stick makers, Nazis, Americans, Jews and finally there exists one more category-' The Gult'
The Gult is a creature of temperament. Generally found in a crowd, they are easily distinguished by the somewhat nasal and garbled sounds they excitedly talk to each other with. Now this may not seem a very pleasant description but I assure you, that if you ever succeed in prising them away from their gang, they are some of the most outrageously cool people that exist.
Now I've tried to analyse this interesting fact from many perspectives and have finally come to this conclusion. 'A gult' does not exist. You either take them as a bunch or you ignore the term completely. As soon as you nab one of them and draw them away from the rest, you have with you an individual with feelings and refreshingly droll thoughts and ideas.
Let me back my hypothesis with examples. Three of my closest friends are from A.P. Heres what they're like individually. One of them is in the same department as I am and is one of the craziest persons I know. And when I say crazy I mean super-duper-extremely-over-the-frigging-top crazy! And it's not just her name…which is funny…literally but her entire attitude and perspective of life.
In the first year, she was known for her legendry, undefeated skills in the dreamy and totally underrated art of slumber. It was whispered about in awe that she could sleep through an entire week of classes, labs and NSS sessions (which she rarely attended anyways) without so much as turning a hair. She had an attractive way of dividing her time between things that were important to her. When she was not sleeping she was usually on the net and when she was not on the net…well she was sleeping!
Nothing ever daunts this young lady. One day before an exam she'll open her books, get serious and mug…and what is more do decently in the exam the next day. Much as we have tried to convince her that her habits are all topsy, her invariable response is, "Why what is wrong?" in the blandest, most irritating tone possible. She then proceeds to scold by calling us "dunkeys and idiots" and leaves quite pleased with herself. She dreams of starting a chain of restaurants one day and likes showing off her "entrepreneurship" skills by remarking placidly whenever we go out to eat that the food most restaurants seem to serve is very insipid and when she starts a restaurant, she's certainly going to spice up the flavour by adding a dozen red chillies to anything she would serve!
When reminded quite gently that she'd lose our valuable patronage if she carried on with these wild schemes, she'd smile pityingly at us and say, "I'm sorry. I forgot I was dealing with a bunch of retards."
You may think that this is an insane and an absolutely-one-in-the-million person. But wait until you hear about Shraxy.
Shraxy's full title is Shrax Crax Max Gmax. (Roll it around a bit and you'll sort of get the feel ) If she doesn't want to do something even if it is an absolutely essential thing… she just won't do it! During the end semester economics exam in the first year, she entertained the entire wing by absolutely refusing to study for the exam because, "I'm telling you, I just can't do it!" She kept on thus telling us random stories of how she had displayed similar stubborn fits for other events in her life till around 3 in the morning.
If teased (as she generally is) Shrax has many natural defences. In the beginning, she'll make her Gmax faces at us, saying "He he" as sarcastically as is Gmaxically possible. Finding that the teasing continues, she'll adopt drastic steps. She'll rush up to her tormentor, stand before her with the same sleepy Gmax smile and then all of sudden give the person a sharp slap and then run for her life. This is also known as her 'hit-and-run' technique.
If everything fails, then Shrax still has one more card up her sleeve. She'll simply sit down and say, "If you say anything more, I'll really cry. I mean it!" The best part about this is, she actually did one day and was immediately stopped being teased. I guess it's this secret weapon she has, that acts as a talisman for her!
She also happens to be one of the sweetest persons I know.
The last of my examples is Sindhu. Sindhu and Shrax are generally hand-in-glove. They make all kinds of plans like lets-bunk-lectures-and-go shopping. Usually it is a lets-bunk-lectures-and-sleep. This is one of their favourite policies and the two generally unanimously agree to adopt this.
Thus I have made it abundantly clear that all three of these people are amazing, 'funny' and refreshing individuals.
HOWEVER…..
If all three meet up at one place then things change..DRASTICALLY!!
The room is generally filled with excited squeaks of telegu. The three morph from being three very cool individuals into one identity. They become gultis!!
Don't get me wrong. This is not a bad thing. They're still the same really. But as they become something which we poor non gulti folks aren't familiar with, they seem to be warding us away from another part of their world. And in our inability to understand this other side of them, we scratch our heads and dub them 'gultis'.
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