Moods: My Man

To people who aren’t from this Athe-forsaken land full of elephants, snakes, snake-charmers, call centers and cheap bombs; or people who’re just too prudish to watch certain ads on TV… the title is a reference to this.

The actual post has nothing to do with sex, safe sex, contraceptives and the usage of contraceptives while having sex. Nope. It’s just that I’m feeling unusual.

Life isn’t supposed to resemble humanity’s views on the cosmos. But mine does.

In ancient times, I believed I was the center of the universe. My life was centered on ME and everything else revolved around it. I wasn’t exactly your manipulative, self-centered and obsessed ”BUT WHAT ABOUT ME?” male version of the bitches from VH1’s ‘My Super Sweet Sixteen’. I was more of the apathetic, self-centered and obsessed ”You do what you want and leave me alone” proto-Goth kid. And I believed that my personality had edges. Go too far and I’ll fall into an infinite void of… something. I never knew what. I still don’t know what.

Now, however, I’ve realized that though I’m finite as a person (DAMN!), I have no boundaries. Which is cool. But… I’ve also moved from the center of the universe. A new occupant has arrived there and I’m merely revolving around the new object at the center. And this… I do not like.

It looks like the last week or so was more of a binary star scenario. Maybe. Maybe not.

And that leads me to Alan Guth’s Inflationary Model of the Universe. Perhaps all of our lives work in that way. A Big Bang, a period of large-scale inflation which results in the formation of a more or less static looking universe. You only realize that the universe is expanding from careful observation and the only consequence of this expansion is that things that were close to each other within the universe early on move farther and farther away and the farther they are, the faster the move away.

I would fit Stephen Hawking’s No Boundary Proposal into this collection of meaningless rambling trash, but I don’t want to scare my loyal readership with the prospect of imaginary time is what is, in actuality, real and what we call real time is a figment of our collective subconscious imagination and a life whose only boundary condition is that it has no boundary. Instead…

When John Archibald Wheeler (who was, apart from one of the best physicists of the 20th century, also RPF’s doctoral thesis adviser) named stars which have collapsed such that not even electromagnetic radiation can escape their gravitational pull as “Black Holes” (another suggested name was “Dark Stars”), the French were repulsed as they believed this title held quite a few sexual connotations. When he further showed how all solutions of the Einstein-Maxwell Equations of General Relativity that result in a black hole are completely characterized by three parameters: mass, electric charge and angular momentum and described this theorem as “Black Holes Have No Hair”… them Frenchies were vindicated. Like anyone else gave a fuck.

Hmmm… I guess I’ll just do an MBA.

John Cleese Ki Jai Ho!

This post has very little to do with John Cleese. I just decided to name it after the first thought that came to my head. Then it dawned upon me that I’d better not do that and named it after Mr. Cleese instead.

My Dad’s laptop is still AWOL. Which means the two DVDs I got from the British Council on the day I left Delhi are lying here unwatched. They just happen to be:

• How To Irritate People - *ing: John Cleese, Tim Brooke-Taylor, Michael Palin, Graham Chapman and Connie Booth.
• The Best Of Monty Python’s Flying Circus vol.1

Thank You. A little part of me tried to contain my frustration, anger and sadness at this unexpected, but also quite obvious turn of events. That part collapsed into a very tiny black hole before it perished in an insignificant little explosion that resulted in a near-lethal shower of gamma radiation.

Moving on, I was planning to get some posters printed for my room, but that didn’t work out either.

And… that’s pretty much it! I’ve been watching TV all day, everyday. Num3ers, House, Jonny Bravo etc. Yesterday, I got sick of watching TV all the time and decided not to watch anything till 8 in the evening. Summarily enough, Baseketball - *ing: Matt Stone and Trey Parker was on HBO! Hurrah! I will kill someone now! And is going to be very nasty indeed! Yay!

The only thing I’m thankful about is that I found an mp3 lying around my house which had this album on it. Phew! Blessed are thy souls Thom Yorke, Jonny Greenwood, Ed O’Brien, Phil Selway and Colin Greenwood! Blessed are thy twisted, electronic-jazz-alternative-experimental retarded genius souls.

Silence! I Want To Hear Silence!

The title is a quote from one of my middle-school teachers. Ah! What noble and gifted souls are those who have been allocated the responsibility of enlightening the young ones of our nation. And the consequences of such an “education” is what this post is about. I’m not going to say a lot because my mind has not been working very well of late. Just view the photographs, and if you cannot read Hindi… I guess you’re kind of lucky.

In other news… Ram Guha’s ‘The Last Liberal’ was freaking amazing. This man is now officially one of my favorite authors and is still the reigning ‘Best Indian Author in English’. Will probably buy ‘India After Gandhi’ after all, regardless of how expensive it is.

And J.M.Roberts’ ‘History of the World’ is… well… it’s well-researched, sort of well-written, concise and academically quite good. But I feel, and this is a personal opinion, that the book is full of negative undertones. There’s white supremacy: his exhortations as to how the first major civilisation in the world, The Sumerians, were Caucasians and how it reached it’s zenith under Caucasians is kind of, excessive. Even if the Sumerians were Caucasian, it really doesn’t deserve the amount of attention he gives it. There are also quite a few sexist undertones along with a lot of pro-Europe bias. But, I might be wrong. This isn’t my area, I don’t know anything about history to actually form any opinion to counter Roberts and so there is a very high possibility that what all these negative undercurrents are just me interpreting his book in ways I shouldn’t.

Anyway, I’m with the folks again. Can’t wait to get back to Delhi. And if this post has invalidated DK’s last comment, it’s because while typing this… I can hear Butters singing What What (In The Butt) . Trey Parker. Matt Stone. Thank You!

Dance, Gappa, Dance!

I don’t know how many people read my friend Swati’s blog… but I guess it’s better to give MY side of the incident she is referring to here. More specifically, to the following comment:

who knew it took harish a couple of beers to get it going on, he “danced” to some famous punjabi song.

My friends… They strive to make me look like an ass. Something people had hitherto thought impossible believing that I’ve already reached the pinnacle of stupidity, only to realize - as Albert Einstein put it-

Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity, and I’m not sure about the former.

Now then, my rebuttal is divided into three arguments:

1. It didn’t take me merely a couple of beers to start dancing. It took me a considerable quantity of rum (Old Monk, neat) and more than three bottles of beer. Unknown to you guys, I was stealing beer from the guys at the plush, white sofas next to us. You know, the school kids who were under the impression that the under-25 rule is actually enforced and arrived wearing false moustaches. So, I was considerably tipsy.
2. The reason I danced to Punjabi songs is… well, I’ve been taught how. There! You happy now? In my two years at KV Gole Market, many of the 76 people I shared my class with were complete assholes. But there were a couple of nice chaps too, one of whom took it upon himself to teach me how to do the Bhangra. Another wanted to teach me how to speak Punjabi (I’ve forgotten most of it with the exception of paynchod , vellaetc.) A third used to keep me updated with the latest happenings in the Punjabi Pop music scene. If it wasn’t enough that I was forced to listen to the latest songs by Jazzy B or Mika on his i-Pod, he would also explain the damn songs to me and sometimes give me a line-by-line lyrical interpretation.
3. Usually, I only dance while in my room and listening to Idioteque. But there are times when you cannot help but get into the rhythm (no matter how pathetic). This was one such occasion. General debauchery, making a complete arse of yourself in public and doing things you swore you’d never do are how a friend’s birthday is to be celebrated while in college. Plus, a few messages from the right sort of person helped.

Anyway, I’m off to Lucknow tomorrow. Meet the folks and eat some home-cooked food at last! You’d think I’m happy right now. Having a great time and stuff. But I’m not. The Marvin vein is throbbing away and I don’t know why and how to get rid of it. I don’t want to be in Noida right now. Or Delhi, or Lucknow or Hyderabad or Bangalore. I probably am in the right frame of mind for an astronaut who’s about to be blasted off on a decade-long mission to colonize one of the large lumps that orbit Uranus.

In other news, I’m reading Ramachandra Guha’s ‘The Last Liberal’. It’s an oustanding collection of essays about Indian icons (I’ve read it upto Satish Dhawan) in Guha’s inimitable style that blends solid historical analysis, anecdotal humor and a brilliant style of writing that’s intellectually challenging and yet, easy to read. It will be available at the British Council Library, Delhi tomorrow. I’m also reading Isaac Asimov’s Book Of Facts. Classic!

And in a last-ditch attempt to salvage my dignitah in all this mess, dancing in a pub/club is not the stupidesst thing to do while drunk. Watch South Park’s season 3 episode, ‘The Red Badge Of Gayness‘. It includes an opening sequence where Cartman enlightens us with his views on how drums are to be played:

You don’t just hit a drum, you beat the crap out of it. (begins pounding his drum. heh-heh, pounding his drum…) Shut your pot-hole, you fucking drum!

So, there!

Engineers? Who? Where?

My summer training has supposedly been in progress for the last month. In this time, we have had to go to college 18 times. And today, we had our first lecture. Did someone say farce?

The people who gave these lectures noted the utter and complete lack of interest, dedication, motivation and attention amongst the students present, so they droned on for barely more than an hour each. The weird bit was… these were perhaps the first lectures in my two years at this here “college” where I actually felt we were learning something close to what an engineer ought to know. Did someone say charade?

The 40-minute FEM lecture was conducted by a man who claimed to have a Master’s degree from IIT-Roorkee and Fellowships from Universities in Italy and Greece. I guess he did, because his accent had equal traces of all these three places. Did someone say mockery?

Semi-knowledgeable though they were, all our guest lecturers were united in their commitment to making one, grotesque mistake. They kept referring to us as ‘Engineers’. Whathafuck? ME? An Engineer? HAH! Did someone say satire?

In a series of events that is probably related to the gist of the above-mentioned (which has been written in a manner that clearly shows my bloc hasn’t gone anywhere and now I’m wondering if I ought to write at ALL…), I’m now rekindling my interest in subjects I had speculatively wanted to make a career in of when I was young. Stuff like Anthropology, Paleontology, Ancient History, Philosophy etc. Did someone say burlesque?

Did someone say absolutely anything at all?

 

Do Looks Matter?

This time it’s Redoable Lite.

Awaiting further reactions.

And as for ME:

The presence of an absence

I’m bad at pretty much everything, but I’m exceptionally bad at social activities. I have always been under the impression that people prefer the presence of my absence. It’s not dissimilar to the sequence from Black Adder the Third, where Baldrick explains why he thinks his first name is “sod off“.

When I was a child and playing in the gutter, I used to say to the other snipes “Hello, my name’s Baldrick,” and they would reply, “Yes, we know. Sod off, Baldrick!”

This is usually okay with me. But the strange bit is when I start receiving evidence to the contrary. So, the idea that the reaction (not exactly prevalent everywhere, but prevalent nevertheless) to the presence of my absence is not indifference but rather a very slight amount of sadness is… surprising, gratifying and also frustrating.

Surprising because… Hell, I never expected people to miss me! It’s such new and unusual territory!

Gratifying. That’s obvious isn’t it?

Frustrating… Because it is not only one-sided. And more importantly, WHY THE FUCK AM I ALWAYS SHORT ON CASH?!

This is new. I miss someone pretty badly. And I’m doing nothing to alleviate the situation. Yeah, ain’t I just great? Goddam it, I feel so inadequate right now. It’s pathetic, pitiful and also true. What I need is a vacation! Ankur’s not enjoying Himachal, so I guess I better keep away. Question is, where do I go? A lot of places come to mind: Leh, Agra, Varanasi, Hyderabad, Vishakapatnam et cetera. 

This weekend is perhaps the best one I’ve had since the end of May! Today was a great afternoon spent in the company (cum panis heh heh heh) of friends, rum, butter chicken and a joke involving a girl mispronouncing the last word in the sentence “I want a Large Coke”; whereas tomorrow is some free Pizza and Beer at Gurgaon. After that, it’s back to the old charade of summer training. Sec-37 to sec-125 and back.

As for the bloc and this thing here… I guess I’m going to stick around and try to beat it. The problem is that I do not truly understand why I blog.

Tagged by the Meme-saab?

As TBB said, “WWRDD?”

One religious work from a non-familiar tradition you’ll read:

Shinto, I guess. Don’t know much about it. Maybe even Tao.

One music video–that you like–from your “least likely to listen to’ genre:

Hatja Tau from Bhojpuri music. Watching that idiot dance is worth it!

A book from a genre you almost never read, that you have read, or you will read (promise!):

Something by Albert Camus, I guess.

Somewhere you’d never thought to go on holiday/vacation, and why it might be fun to go there?

Pakistan. To visit Harappa, Mohenjodaro, Takshashila etc and also to experience the feeling of being an Indian in Pakistan.

A specific food you’ve never tried, but will because of this meme, honest!:

American cuisine. Steak, pork chops and stuff like that.

A sport or game you really hate, or haven’t tried yet, but are willing to give one more go:

Jogging. One. Last. Time.

A style of dance you probably won’t try (we won’t make you promise on this one)

Choreographed hindi film dances. And the weird shit people do in Delhi clubs (hip-hop, bhangra and idiocy all mixed into one)

A career job you don’t feel you’re suited for, and why:

Modelling. ’nuff said.

An item that’s “thinking out of the box’ for this meme that hadn’t been included:

If you caught your parents screwing, what position would you like them to be in?

It’s there’s one thing in life you wanted to do, and will do because of this meme, what will it be?

Work in an office with cubicles and bosses and deadlines and be “Fitter. Happier. More Productive…”

In other news… Viva La Vida was a letdown. It’s not that I hate it or it’s bad. The foundation for the album was more or less fucked up. Coldplay wanted to do a Radiohead… but they didn’t have the ‘nads to do what it takes. End result: Weak album.

Dear Mr. Chris Martin,

What happened to the band that made ‘Parachutes’ and ‘A Rush Of Blood To The Head’? If you want to experiment, go all the way. Don’t start and then pussy out halfway.

Regards,

Me.

Trying to get my hands on some music by Primus. Waiting for some Bach CDs from Bangalore.

I’m bored. Somebody, help me!

Mental MP3 Attacks Again!

My mood can usually be encapsulated by studying which songs are playing in my head. And since last night, it’s been the same damn song. This one. Which is odd because House or Dance Electronica isn’t what you’ll usually catch me listening to. Though I can’t say I despise it. I have nothing against any genre, actually. (Except Bubblegum Pop. I HATE THOSE FUCKING BUBBLEGUM POP MORONS!)

So, yeah, I guess that does express what’s the state of the thing formerly known as my mind. I know it’s kind of lujjar-esque lyrically, but it’s not that bad. There are, in fact, very few songs that deal with that topic and do not have lujjar-esque lyrics. My personal favorite is…

You can laugh, a spineless laugh. We hope your rules and wisdom choke you. For now we are one, in everlasting peace. We hope that you choke. That you choke.

Strangely enough, the song that did occupy my mind until this one replaced it does not immediately give one any hint as to what my state of mind was then. So, Mars bar to anyone who can tell me. The song is what Terrance and Phillip sing in their maiden appearance on American television on the Ed Sullivan show. (Check out Season 5 ep.5 ‘Terrance and Phillip: Behind the Blow‘)

Till then… ‘Days Go By…’

Attempts at beating the bloc

I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned why I have this habit of omitting the ‘k’ and spell the disease I am currently suffering as “Writer’s Bloc”. Die Batra Wird thought it’s a show of solidarity with the comrades at JNU or Steven’s/Stephen’s/Stefaaan’s. Actually, it’s a really bad joke. You see, my writer’s bloc is soooo bad… that I can’t even write the ‘k’ in block.

The Harish, The.

I don’t know whether I should do this… My first idea to beat the bloc was to tag myself and just fill up answers to inane questions that are somehow supposed to judge your personality (tagging –> Scientology. There is a connection). But that was just because I did not want to fuck up what I am going to try and write now. You see, I read a book a couple of days ago. It was a book I’ve been looking for the last 3 years. And it was everything I hoped it would be. There are two other books that I had been searching for a few years that I finally managed to get my hands on right now. (That sentence right there shows you how bad my bloc is. Just look at that mangled piece of crap! Yeesh!)

The books are:

• ‘Gödel, Escher, Bach: an Eternal Golden Braid’ by Douglas Hofstadter
• ‘The Future Of Theoretical Physics and Cosmology’ various authors. (Ranging from Roger Penrose to Kip Thorne to Edward Witten)
• ‘Dune’ by Frank Herbert

I want to review Dune. I really do! I loved the book. I think it’s the Lord Of The Rings meets Islamic Philosophy meets Asimov. It is easily one of the best books I have ever read. The only problems I had with it were to do with contrasting visions of the future.

The future is analogous to the present. Human beings evolved in Africa and then spread to different parts of the world with each separate branch developing their own unique culture, religion and way of life. Similarly in Dune, human beings evolved on earth and then spread to different parts of the universe. Each planet developed it’s own culture etc. However, though science has progressed in leaps and bounds (evident from the amount of respect Mathematicians receive), there are a lot of medieval or rather ancient ideals still floating about and I don’t get that. For example, how can people still believe in religion? You’d think science and space-travel would eliminate all religion as religion has it’s base in uncertainty and doubt and more importantly, the belief that WE are somehow so important that an omnipotent being is looking after us. Or the role of women. It’s a space-age society where science and superstition co-exist. Muad’Dib sees visions, but these visions incorporate Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle and the concept of Chaos Theory. (the thoughts going through his mind before his fight with Jamis is Chaos Theory in a nutshell).

The Islamic nature of the books is unmistakable. I don’t know much about Islamic history, but I feel that the character of Paul Atreides (Muad’Dib, Usul) is reminiscent of the Prophet Mohammad. The presence of quite a few Arabic/Urdu phrases and sometimes straightforward Islamic references add to this conjecture. Paul is trying to prevent the future he foresaw where the Fremen lead a Jihad in his name. There are references to the Hijra, the Hajj and even though the name Muad’Dib is apparently the Fremen term for a desert mouse, according to wikipedia:

In Arabic, مؤدّب mu’addib means ‘educator.’

Also, Lady Jessica’s sietch name, Sayyadina is I think part of the Prophet Mohammad’s full name.

I thought that due to this, the possibility of a Dune movie in the current socio-political climate was next to impossible, only to realize that a movie was already made in 1984. (Hey!)

Now I’m trying to get my hands on the sequels. I guess that Dune and Herbert are the perfect antithesis to CS Lewis and Narnia. It’s odd, I’m a huge fan of Tolkein and yet despise his close buddy!

Anyway, I think I’ve babbled enough. I’m supposed to be working on my summer project(s). A failure analysis of three missions (Challenger, Columbia, GSLV F-02); some MATLAB shit (we have to learn it ourselves, Hell! I don’t even know what MATLAB is! Is it a software? A language? What the fuck!) and something to do with Eddies in a continuum. (No, seriously! You guys? Seriously!)

Enough talking! Writer’s bloc is not the inability to write at all. Rather, it’s the inability to write well. And by the looks of this post, I have a long way to go before I’m cured.