At stake

Bets worth Rs 150 crore were placed on the birth of Aishwarya's kid. Bets worth Rs 200 crore were placed on Sachin's hundredth century. I wonder how much people are willing to bet on me getting my PhD

Research Progress

When I joined PhD, I thought I will do something original. Unable to do that, I started making an attempt to modify or improve something that has already been done. After some time, I downgraded to trying to reproduce the reported results. Finally, unable to do that also, for the last 2 days, I have been sending emails to the authors of papers asking them how they got their results. I wonder what the next phase is

Here's my card

Whenever I meet my old friends who joined the industry, they give me their business card. Since I don't have one, I don't know what to do in return. I just show them my college identity card. I am now thinking of getting photocopies of my ID card and handing it over whenever I meet people

Image source: Zazzle

We Picked and We Plucked

The other day, our guitar instructor told the entire class to play a tune together, in a synchronized way. At the end of our performance, he smiled and said that we sound like a swarm of mosquitoes

Cartoon Source: Shutterstock

To Pick or To Pluck

In my first guitar class, we were asked to start by just picking the strings to get a feel for the instrument. When I tried it, the guitar slipped from my hand and fell down. Since then, the instructor insists that I start my class by just holding the guitar and standing still for some time, to get used to it

Cartoon Source: Dreamstime

Noices News

Research student falls asleep during technical talk in JN Tata Auditorium. Spends entire night locked up in auditorium

A seemingly harmless technical talk at the JN Tata Auditorium in India's premier research institute, Indian Institute of Science (IISc), Bangalore, took a tragic turn as Khoom B Karan, a research scholar in ECE (Encephalitis Cures Engineering) department fell asleep during the talk and did not wake up even as the speakers, entire audience and the support staff of the JN Tata Auditorium left at the end of the talk and the slumbering research scholar was locked up in the auditorium for the entire night.

The trapped scholar was discovered in the morning when Kanta Bai the cleaner opened the auditorium, allegedly for cleaning purposes. Asked about her reaction on finding the trapped research scholar, she said “In my 25 years of service, I have seen people carelessly leave behind all kinds of junk in the auditorium. People leave behind cups, brochures, text books even research papers. But this is the first time I have seen someone leave behind an entire research scholar”

Bahadur, the caretaker of JN Tata Auditorium was the last person to leave the auditorium. When questioned on why he neither saw nor heard the snoring researcher, he said “What saahib. Why are you blaming me? This place is so big, how can I alone take care of everything? In fact, so many students fall asleep in here because of the AC, soft cushions and the drawling voice of some speakers. But this guy was the only one stupid enough not to wake up at the end of the talk. I don’t understand why they hold such boring talks in such a cozy environment.” He then looked at The Noices Team closely, and said “In fact I think I have even seen couple of you sleeping in here”. Noices wisely decided not to push the matter any further with Bahadur.

Khoom B Karan’s brother B B Shaan was understandably aggrieved. He said, “This is very dangerous. I demand that the administration take some immediate action to prevent such unfortunate incidents in the future. How could they be so careless and lock up the auditorium while a research scholar is blissfully asleep inside? Khoom bhaiyya woke up around half an hour after the sedative voice of the speaker stopped impinging on his ears. He could not even use the mobile to call for help since there is no network available within the auditorium. He tried to shout for help. He had to run half a kilometre from his seat up the stairs towards the exit to knock on the doors only to realise that the doors are padded. How is anyone supposed to attract attention for help?”

Khoom was equally agitated about the mishap. He said, “Do you have any idea of the mind numbing experiences I had to withstand in there? All the ghosts of past speakers haunted me and kept lecturing me throughout the night. I had no choice but to listen to the technical talks, conferences and seminars of the past. I was too frightened to even yawn in front of those ghosts of past speakers” and he showed how stiff his jaw had become from endless hours of controlling his yawn.

He is currently recuperating at the IISc Health Centre. His duty doctor Dr Quack said “EEG did not show much activity when he was brought here. His mind was quite blank. The pulse and brain activity was alarmingly low. This might be due to being trapped in that ghastly place for over 14 hours. 2 hours of a technical talk and over 12 hours of being trapped in there while the echoes of the past talks kept reverberating. There is a limit to what the human brain can endure”.

Asked about Khoom’s recovery progress, Dr Quack said, “We had to give regular doses of the recorded voice of his advisor reprimanding him in order to raise his brain activity to acceptable levels. Fortunately, we have lot of experience in treating such cases at IISc. As you can see, he has responded very well to treatment”.

Asked for his feelings on surviving this mishap, Khoom said, “After this near brain death experience, I have begun to appreciate life. I have decided to start exercising my brain regularly. We tend to take everything we have for granted. Using brain only just before deadlines and examinations and ignoring it altogether at other times. I have realised that it is wrong” and he nodded in self-acknowledgement.

The Noices Team was asked not to aggravate the patient too much and we were requested to wind up quickly since it was almost time for his next dose of medicine. When asked for his final comments, “You only get one brain. Use it well” was Khoom B Karan’s parting shot.

Sketch Credits: Jithin K S, ECE, IISc

When age wasn't more than just a number

The other day, a friend of mine (and a fellow Voiceian) sent me a few words penned by her on the occasion of the day she admits to everybody that she has grown an year older.

The words are reproduced below followed by my two cents worth of thoughts

I’m scared. She’s my best friend these days (I’m at home and my other friends are busy working people who stay far away). She’s the most frequent visitor home and I delight in her company. We laugh over Suppandi stories, share chocolates and tell each other tales about crazy people in our respective schools (er...campus, in my case).

Shuba is 10 yrs old. She thinks I’m only a few years elder to her. I’m terrified of what would happen when she learns my true age. Will she be repulsed that I’m so old? I mean, 25 would seem like a very large age to someone who’s 10, right? She’s not yet asked me my age. I live in dread of the day she does. If she does…well…er…will heaven forgive me if I lie?

~ Smrithi Murthy (MRDG, IISc)

You know, the qualities I admire most about children are, the innocence, the readiness to believe, the trust they place in others and the way they actually speak their mind, never indulging in the double talk that some of us adults call “diplomacy”.

Sometimes I wonder whether the world would be a different place if everybody retained the desirable childlike characteristics we had when we were kids.

In case you are still curious, this is how Smrithi tells me it all ended

The inevitable happened. Shuba asked me how old I am. I looked at her, brought all my courage together and said, “25”. She looked at me first in disbelief, then thoughtful. “But you’re still studying?” she asked. “Yes”, said I. “And you’ll finish your studies when you’re 28?” “Yes” (well…I couldn’t tell her that was only my best guess and one can never predict a PhD). “You don’t look that old”, she commented. That was it. We then began talking normally, of other things. I felt like I’d passed some test. Phew!

~ Smrithi

Glad to hear that, at least for children, age is just another number to be forgotten

My V Day Appointment

I knew my social life is going to the dogs when I realised that the only appointment I have on Valentine's Day is with my PhD advisor

मुन्नी और शीला (Munni and Sheela)

अर्ज़ किया है...
इधर देखो तो मुन्नी उधर देखो तो शीला,
इधर देखो तो मुन्नी उधर देखो तो शीला,
हसीना तेरे इश्क़ में हज़ारों नौजवानों के ग्रेड्स का हो गया केला

Translation:
I recite...
Here I see Munni There I see Sheela,
Here I see Munni There I see Sheela,
Oh beautiful woman, infatuation for you has led to the screwing up of grades of thousands of young men

Looking back, Falling forward

By any far-fetched chance of probabilistic imagination, have you wondered why my blog is named Reminiscence? If not then I am sure you have better things to do. Anyways, there are a handful of people who do not and hence I go forth pandering to their curiosities and resulting queries.

When I started the blog, I had intended it to be a sort of a public diary where I could share experiences that triggered an oasis of contemplation in an otherwise not so green field of thought. Under normal circumstances such thoughts would have gone in a condensed form into the folds of my closest confidant, my personal diary. Then one fine day, a narcissist alter ego inside me convinced me to share some of the less embarrassing thoughts with those willing to read these pages.

However, over the years the character and basic feel of the blog has changed. If you clear the cobwebs a bit and look into my older posts and compare them with newer posts, you might find that the former have a more philosophical tone. As time passed, I realised that my (AWESOME) sense of humour seemed to amuse my readers more than my ramblings on the mundane fact that I forgot to brush my teeth one morning and my philosophical interpretations of the disastrous consequences.

Over the years I have stopped trying hard to create that (fake) hue of philosophy on my blog and the blog began to take a comic shade closer in character to the nutty author. See the tags on this blog and their frequency. Yes, the name of the blog is misleading and I have wanted to change it many times. Apparently I can change the name of the blog whenever I fancy but I cannot change its web address. I felt it would be a bit awkward to have a pseudo-intellectual link name like “reminiscentarrows.blogspot.com” and have a blog name that is neither related to Reminiscence nor Arrows. My plans of shifting to a new blog have been put on the backburner courtesy my not so strong technical skills and quite so strong procrastination skills.

I digress a lot today. Coming to the core of the bottom of the point I wanted to make in this post. As the new year dawns and the old year dusks I Reminisce about the one resolution I have managed to uphold over the years. The practise of writing a personal diary. It’s been over a decade since I started this habit.

At the end of every year, I take time off to look at the pages of the past year. I summarise the year in a couple of pages. More often than not I end up flipping the pages of years further back. It’s a wonderful feeling. Looking back at how the thought process (and writing style) has evolved is a soulful experience. The way priorities have changed over the years. The dreams, desires, wishes, whims and fantasies (even the crushes). The pleasure of rubbing off the dust of the years (literally and metaphorically) and flipping through yellow but crisp pages makes it worth expending the miniscule effort of writing every night at the end of the day.

Common sense would tell that there should be a lesson to be learnt by revising the mistakes of the past. But over the years, I have seen myself make a couple of mistakes with some similarities. Despite having written about it in the past years. Yet again, every year I look back and wonder what it will be like going forward. How to describe this apparent incongruence? How about the title of this post?