A name’s the most primary identification mark of any person. It’s one of the only entities about us that’s both intensely personal and unabashedly public. It’s something you take pride in (not always, but in general) and hold closest to your heart – and it’s also that piece of info about yourself that you’d willingly share with almost every other person you acquaint with. Your name says a lot about you; it signifies your caste, your religion and even your persona: Often “You are what your name means!” (Okay, that’s an inaccurate hypothesis and I’ll elaborate why).

Now, all of us aren’t exactly in love with our names, are we? Many change names in the course of their lives. The reasons being social (change of religion, marriage), astrological (Think Numerlogy and astrology), or even personal (sheer hatred of your weird name). But our names have been lovingly bestowed upon us by our parents, and changing your name would mean, changing our identity altogether, won’ t it? And in these days of inane red-tape, a name-change would mean countless forms, corrections, modifications and what not! Changing what you’re called, just once, can be such a pain in the ass, right?

How would you feel if you you had a new name each day?

Here’s an anecdote. Rewind 54 years.

1956. Picture a village in Rural Kerala. A kid is born into a fading aristocratic Nair family. Now, the once-prosperous Tharavaadu is in the throes of total destruction, thanks to economic mismanagement and a profusion of Legal Troubles. This kid is born as the youngest in a family of 8. Now, this family has a huge disparity in terms of ages, best explained by the fact that the kid’s oldest brother got married when the kid was one year old! Way back in the ’50s, being the youngest kid wasn’t as cool as it is, right now. The kid’s parents were too busy managing his seven siblings and their own troubles,  to give him a second look. His mother didn’t have enough time to even breastfeed the kid. What’s worse, the kid did not have a name, even when he was two years old! He was too small an entity to be considered, when the landlord father of his was losing acres of land and his imported Ford to a slew of court-cases!! Heights of bad parenting, if you ask me.

By the time the kid was three years old, the family was impoverished, more or less. Most of the property was in dispute – the sole lifeline of the family was a ten acre rice-field, and some cattle. The kid-who-had-no-name wasn’t even encouraged to eat three meals a day, let alone go to school. He had no issues with the lackadaisical attitude of his parents, however. Too mature for his age, he learned to mingle with neighbourhood kids and enjoyed his life, blissfully unaware of the troubles around him.

One day, a group of middle-aged men and women marched into the Tharavaadu. They were greeted by the kid’s mom with trembling arms. Were they officials from the court, all set to attach the only property they had? They coterie of well dressed people turned out to be teachers from the local Government school. Apparently, the school was about to be closed down due to lack of attendance, and there was an DEO (District Education Officer)-inspection due. The teachers were hunting for kids to substitute  ’real’ children so that the school wouldn’t get decommissioned; their jobs were at stake. While the teachers were explaining their predicament to a now-relieved mom, our kid marched into the courtyard, clad in a loincloth-style knicker, happily playing with a discarded cycle tyre – his only toy. As soon as he entered, this lady teacher pounced upon him immediately, the way a lioness would perch upon a zebra and bribed him with a bunch of toffees. The kid munched a toffee for the first ever time, and boy, he loved them! Within a few minutes, a deal was fixed. The kid would attend school whenever an inspector came to school, and he’d get free meals as a gift. The kid was too satiated to relent – milk, countless toffees and nourished WHO-sponsored meals were a welcome relief from his daily-porridge.

The very next day, he set off to school donning the new ‘uniform’ the guests had bestowed him with. Walking four kilometers, criss crossing rivers, and jumping fences, the kid finally reached his destination. Tired he was, but sweet promises of delicious milk and meals kept him going. No sooner had the kid reached school, he was ushered in by a peon, and was rushed to the lady teacher from yesterday. She had a bunch of kids of various shapes and sizes beside her. The teacher smiled at him, and examined a list. Then she gently told him:

“Monte peru innu Mohandas ennu aanu ketto? Aa inspector attendance edukkumbo ‘Mohandas’ ennu vilikkum. Appo kai pokkanam ketto. Ennittu namukku kazhikkaame?”

(Your name today, is Mohandas. That inspector will take attendance and he’ll call ‘Mohandas’. Raise your hands then. After he leaves, you can have your lunch. “)

The kid happily nodded.

Soon the inspector was in class, and called out the names. He must’ve been astonished as to how tiny a kid Mohandas was – he did frown at seeing a seven year old who was more of a three year old, but he let it pass and moved on to the next person. ‘Mohandas’ rushed after class to have a satiating meal. He loved his school!

Then on, the kid was a sure-pick whenever inspectors attended class. Each time, he’d be attending a new class, sporting a new name. “Vijaya Kumar”, “Raghavan”, “Krishna Kumar”, “Rajeev Pillai”, “Shekhar Nair”, “Peter Simon”, “Adel Aziz” – he’d gotten used to being referred to with new names. As the kid was six years old, he’d attended all classes and division from the first grade to the fourth grade – and he enjoyed it! Soon, he’d deliberately attend classes, seating himself in different classes each day, choosing a new name for himself; the school was perennially-underpopulated, so no one really cared. The teachers loved him, he’d saved their asses plenty of times, and the kid was too good a student for his age. He was doted upon, and got to drink plenty of WHO-certified milk, subsidized by the U.N. The kid was fat and healthy as he turned 11 – a far cry from the impoverished, knicker-clad three year old. With time, the kid developed a strong penchant for studies. He loved science and math – and he excelled in the latter, thanks to a Mathematics Professor of a brother who enjoyed passing on lessons to his sibling.

Years passed, and the kid had reached tenth grade (fifth form, as it was called, back then). He still had no definite name, but his ‘names’ were narrowed down to five or six, maybe. The date came to register for the SSLC Board Exams. The kid went to the teacher in charge of examinations – who was new to the school. When he approached the teacher, she asked the kid for his name. Now, that question was quite a googly for our buddy, no one had asked him what his name was, till then! He was referred to by his classmates by whatever nickname they chose for him, and he never really bothered about it till date. The realization stuck him hard! He did not have a name to himself! For the first time, the school’s most brilliant student could not blurt out an answer to a question posed by a teacher.

Noticing his silence, the teacher looked up from her register and quipped:

“Oh, I know you! You’re Ramesh Babu! I taught you the other day at class. Sorry, I forgot you.”

That was the name he’d assumed during the previous inspection; this teacher was taking the class whilst the inspector came over. She did seem to have a good memory.

Before the kid could answer, the teacher wrote down ‘Ramesh Babu’, onto the register. The kid finally got himself a name.

The kid’s mom was about to return his hall-ticket back to the post man citing the absence of a ‘Ramesh babu’ in the family, when the kid rushed and grabbed it from the postman. He wrote the SSLC exams and passed them with flying colours. He did well for his Pre-Degree and went on to be an Electrical Engineer at a reputed Engineering College. After working in different companies all across the country, Ramesh joined Kerala State Electricity Board as an Assistant Engineer. His quest for knowledge spurred him to take an MBA while he was working. Now he’s a Chief Engineer at KSEB – widely respected and honoured, even by the Hon. Minister of Electricity, in Kerala.

The kid who had no name happens to be my father.

Bottom Line:

“Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony”.

- Morpheus (Lawrence Fishburne), The Matrix Reloaded.

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The past few weeks of my life have been the best ones I’ve ever had in my life. After a series of unending misfortunes, my life entered an entirely new phase. I started realizing the meaning of the word happiness. Many personal lows later, I struck jackpot with happiness – it all started with a decent CAT Score (96.48%ile), which set off a spree of celebrations. There was nothing to celebrate about, really – despite the score, no B School called me, mainly because the score caught me by surprise and that I hadn’t applied anywhere. Yet, it was a huge personal morale boost and I virtually had a blast with buddies. Of course, I ended up being a lot poor (bankrupt, actually). But yet, the lightness of the empty purse brought a smile onto my face, for the first time.

Before I digress further, let me get on to my point – the prime reason behind my happiness ain’t the CAT score and the ensued happiness. It’s nothing far-fetched, so to speak. I’m just too happy about college life getting over.

Aghast as it might seem at the outset, I’m EXHILERATED at the thought of moving out of the ‘comfort’ (ahem) of my ‘wonderful college’, into the portals of this big bad world. To fight it out with the rest of ‘em 6 billion human beings. To even die fighting! Let me make it crystal clear for ya, every moment I spent in this super-awesome college of mine was exhaustingly-crappy. I was stopmed upon, berated, and pinned onto the wall in every way possible, during my life in this weak excuse of an educational institution. All I’ve left is a few buddies – who aren’t exactly “best friends”, but some endearing people whom I adore.

I reached my college by a sad quirk of fate, I was meant to study elsewhere, but a minor technical lag with the “allotment”, landed me here. The first sight was app(e)al(l)ing, the ‘HUGE” buildings, the friendly, super-awesome teachers, the mind-blowingly endearing staff (apologies for the hyperbole, but I’m truly short of words here, if you know what I mean. ) Then on, there was no looking back. Life was a cycle – from bad to worse and a vice versa. A bloody negatively-clamped sine wave, if you would apologize me for being geeky. It’s been so, for the past four years and I’ve had every screw up an 18-22 year old could’ve gone through.

In an optimistic manner of speaking, it was all for good. I learned a LOT. I learned how tough life is with backpapers. I had to accept serious insults to my intelligence. I had to live with crap being hurled on to me on a daily basis. I saw bitching, up close and personal. I learned how life would be in shambles once you choose to be different. I learned how being original and creative is WRONG! I learned the value of mugging. I learned how bits of paper saves lives in exam halls. I learned every lesson about unrequited love – about how it feels to be in love with a classmate for over three long years and not mentioning it to her – being so sure that she’d reject me; (still haven’t done that and don’t intend to either). Worse of them all – I learned how closing my eyes to to the piled up shit would dig my grave deeper.  Now that the end is near, and I’m elated that I’m finally getting an opportunity to let go of everything.

Looking back, I’m clearly worse-off than what I was, when I started. Of course, I did gain a lot, other than valuable experiential lessons. A course in technology brought out the creative in me. Had I studied elsewhere, the budding creative in me would’ve been stillborn. But the technology ‘education’, if I may call it so undeservedly,  killed the techie in me – and today, I’m a full-blown creative. And I’m happy about it!

Doesn’t mean I’d miss college – I’d miss the buddies, I’d miss the occasional good times, I’ll miss the random moment of fun. I’d even miss being in unrequited love, don’t think I’ll see her – she’s evidently departing for greener pastures, while I’m stuck in good ol’ desert. 

On that note, I bid adieu to three and a half years of college life.

P.S.

Came here looking for nostalgia and got none? Check this video out. Made in IIMA! Wish I could sing this song in the portals of the insti as I pass out!

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First year of college.

My Basic Civil Engineering exam was due that day, at noon. I was on my way to college with my trusted travel partner – KSRTC. (Don’t have many human ‘travel partners’ yet ) I was already late and hence abandoned the usual policy of choosing nearly-empty buses only to cram myself into a choc-a-bloc ”Thiruvananthapuram’ red. Five minutes into the journey and I realized what huge mistake I’d made. There I was, clutching a couple of Civil Engineering texts on both hands, with a huge backpack on my shoulders – crushed from all sides by an unruly mob fighting tooth and nail for personal space. I’d an entire text to read, but for fear of my dear life, I could neither open my texts, nor keep them back in the bag – for, both actions would result in irreparable damage to myself from all the ‘churn’ around!

Meanwhile, the conductor came ticket-mongering. After a superhuman effort, I managed to push away a fat man standing on my right side and fished out my purse. A 100 rupee note – its sole occupant silently grinned back at me. Screwed, the conductor guy is goanna swear at me. Yet, without a tinge of hesitation, I passed on the note to the condcutor, who, without looking up from his ticket-machine, issued me the ticket, pocketed the money and walked away. Thank God, I mused.

Soon, the bus reached a nearby stop – ‘Pongummood’, from where, my buddy Praseeth (batchmate at college) got in. He started his usual speech about how unprepared he was for the exams and how he’s goanna fail. He had no idea about the principle of Leveling, which was the only concept I’d learned well. He entreated me earnestly to explain the concepts to him, for levelling problems were the easiest way to score 10 marks in the essay. Realizing it as a way to revise what I’d learned, I started off, unmindful of the crowded environs. After a while, Praseeth’s sharp intellect had picked up the entire method and he was repeatedly mentioning how easy the whole method was. The bus had reached Pattom Junction and we were just a couple of kilometers away from college. He took a cursory glance at his watch and muttered that we’re really late.

Before I knew it, he’d opened the passenger door and pulled me out of the bus!

Praseeth, not always a punctuality person, was a tad too hyperactive today. He ushered me into an auto, and pushing his lean frame inside, commanded the auto driver to take us to college. He silently assured me that he’d foot the bill and that he wasn’t too enamored about crowded buses. Using the time to discuss other portions, we reached college in a few minutes’ time. Both of us alighted, and I took my purse to pay Praseeth – yeah, I’m very stringent about sharing, so I thought I’d share the auto-cost with Praseeth. I opened my wallet and fished for money.

The purse was empty.

Shocked, I took the purse and re-checked ever recess and niche. There were perhaps a few coins that amounted to Rs. 5/- not a penny more, not a penny less. Dumbfound, I kept searching, meanwhile Praseeth paid the money and was walking over to the classes. After some wild goose chase, I realized my blunder.

Dad had given me Rs. 100/- in the morning. I gave it to the conductor, from whom I did not buy change, thanks to the auto-sojourn and my absent-mindedness. There I was, broke, penniless and smiling inwardly at myself! Yet, I gathered myself and wrote the exam. Ironically, there was a leveling problem (of the same type I’d explained to Praseeth), and both of us got it right. After the exam, collecting all coins I could gather, I caught a  bus back home and didn’t mention about my debacle to a soul.

P.S.

Six months later, the results came. Praseeth scored a neat 80 for the exam while my mark was an okay-ish 68. And I heard him proudly proclaim to his buddies:

“You should’ve studied leveling man! I knew the answer to the problem when I saw the question – that was the only thing I’d studied and I got whopping 20 marks for the essay!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle.

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Common Admission Test -  arguably,the holy grail of all entrance examinations in India. Any CAT applicant will have to jostle with some five lakh odd applicants to vie for a seat in the prestigious Indian Institutes of Management, which would open doors to six figure salaries, cozy lifestyles and what not! It wasn’t the cozy lifestyle of managers that endeared me to the CAT. I always had the entrepreneurial dream. Owning companies, commanding minions working underneath me, being in control of a full-fledged company – my delusions about the future were always big. A close interaction with an  IIM alumnus of a  senior- at- school boosted my morale and bingo, I was another IIM aspirant! Back then, I was just a wide-eyed twelfth grader, mind you.

It’s been four long years. And I’m taking the holy grail of this exam, tomorrow (December 5th, 2009).

I’m writing CAT at CMR Institute of Management, Kalyana Nagar,  Bangalore, while all my compatriots are writing the exam at centres within the state of Kerala. Paul (The President of Uni-Y) and I had no other option but to opt for Bangalore. The new system of online CAT required us to book slots for test venues and procrastinators that we are, we delayed the booking process and finally got ourselves fixed at the Bangalore slot on fixed December. Paul’s brother, who works in Bangalore, offered us solace and housing. A trip to Bangalore would be fun, we thought, and till now, things are just perfect.

I booked the ticket to Bangalore in the Bangalore Express (Kochuveli – Bangalore), using IRCTC’s online booking facility. Since even the booking process was procrastinated to the last minute, we had to opt for the costlier ‘Tatkal’, but got our confirmed seats in the said train. Paul had a lab exam on the D-day (December 3rd), and he said he’d come directly from college. Paul’s buddies were to bring his luggage to the station, while he’d directly arrive at the station. Contrary to my normal routine, I was pretty-much punctual that day. By 3.30 PM, I’d reached the Kochuveli station with my cousin who dropped me at the location in his bike. The train, which would leave by 4.05 PM, was already ‘parked’. I started my wait for my fellow-traveler.

Twenty five minutes, no sign of Paul! I panicked, totally. Punctuality is one among Paul’s few weaknesses. Since he was already this late, the chances for him making it on the dot were depressingly-low, I realized. I tried calling him, and after a few harrowing minutes of inactivity, he responded reassuringly that he was on his way. I called up his friends to inquire about the fate of his luggage! Apparently, they didn’t know a clue about the luggage! Now, that was a cause of concern, for, even though I was the one who booked the tickets online, I’d asked Paul to take the print outs of the e-tickets. Which means, if Paul doesn’t arrive, I can’t board the train either!! As I ran to the corridor of the station, I saw a calm-as-usual Paul, riding into the porch of the tiny Kochuveli station with his friend Nithin, bag in hand. Yeah, the din of the station had actually caused a communication gap when I called Paul’s friends; I was actually mistaken.

We boarded the train and rested ourselves on our coach – S2. Seats 67 and 68. The coach seemed empty. I checked out the reservation chart, and realized that female presence was, as-always, infinitesimal . Shrugging, I walked back to my seat and flopped  myself onto the seat. Suddenly, I felt a jolt of pain on my left knee-cap – an excruciating one! I felt my knee cap slip towards the right for a split second; for a moment, I thought all was lost. I was reminded of the knee-cap dislocation I suffered five years back, as a result of which I was left bedridden for  over a month! Before the wave of depression overpowered me, the situation corrected itself. The knee cap relocated automatically to its original position, and I heaved a sigh of relief. My cousin (who’d boarded the compartment to see us off) and Paul, didn’t notice a thing, though. However, ever since, my knee has had this slipping tendency. I really hope it wouldn’t cause me a problem!

The long winded path!

Moving in the train!

The train left the station on the dot, at 4.05 PM. Conversationalists that we were, the two of indulged in totally myriad conversations about totally random topics. What began with Paul’s viva-screw up on that day’s lab exam moved over to jobs, placements, and finally global issues! Despite being conversationalists, we ran out of topics in two hours time, and Paul was soon dozing off, listening to this ‘Best of 90s’ album in his iPod touch. Meanwhile, I tried a hand at reading the rest of ‘Shantaram’, my latest pick from the library, and found myself following Paul’s example. I was woken up by a sleepy Paul, musing how the colour of my orange t-shirt had suddenly turned green – an illusion caused by some weird out-of-the-box dream! By now, it was 8.30 and we had reached Ernakulam. People started trickling in by now, and a few people had populated the compartment. We resumed conversation, and started discussing the intricacies of Photography, only to be joined in by a silent onlooker guy who happened to be a student at a Bangalore film institute. Perennially-curious Paul got some doubts on long-exposure shots cleared. We got down at Ernakulam and bought some Parottas and chicken curry for supper. Carrying on with the supper-conversation, we failed to notice our co-passengers hungrily glowering at our window side seat to have food. It took a prompt-but-stern reminder from a young man sitting opposite to us, to return our civic sense to us, as we courteously stepped aside for them. After an hour or two of phone calls, we decided to call it a long night. Paul flopped onto his top-floor berth, as I lay listening to Paul’s iTouch on the lower berth. In the meantime, a young lady and her cute kid assumed positions in the seat opposite to us, filling the compartment. For a while, I watched the cute antics of the kid, pausing music. After calling up my best buddies once more, I slept at around 11:45.

Paul sleeping on the train!

I woke up at around 6 AM to watch an unusually-demure Paul, indulging himself in silent musings – it was quite a sight! He resumed being himself, when he saw me wake up and we went about performing the morning duties. I had to lend toothpaste to Paul, who forgot to take  his toiletries. We corresponded with Paul’s brother Koshy chettan, who asked us to get down at the KR Puram railway station in Bangalore, instead of the Bangalore Central Station. By now, we’d passed the Karnataka border. My phone got switched off due to excessive usage, and I had to rely on the train’s charging unit to get it charged. But even that seemed futile. All of a sudden, I couldn’t make calls! I had more than 350 rupees balance, but still, no call would connect. Messages weren’t even being delivered. Another flabbergasting moment! Despite many attempts at switching my mobile off and on, calls simply refused to connect!! Thankfully, I was receiving messages, which kinda softened my plight. I tried to reassure myself by enjoying the Karnataka scenary, standing by the door adjacent to the charging unit.

We got down at KR Puram by 8.05. Indian Railways decided to make the train punctual for a change, it seems. My knee problem kept resurfacing occasionally as the two of us trudged towards the exit of the station, clutching our heavy bags. We rested ourselves by the ticket reservation block of the station – that lay by the road. Paul’s brother said he’d pick us up in a jiffy, while we waited. I feasted my eyes on the Bangalore city. The first thing that caught my eyes was the traffic. The city is TOO congested! Beside the KRPuram station, there’s a newly built flyover, and we could see the choc-a-bloc traffic slogging along. The city hadn’t changed a lot from my previous visit four years back. True, there were bigger buildings, and the traffic just got ten times as chaotic – but the ‘Metro spirit’ and the hectic lifestyle was still intact. Typical to any Indian city, we could see cows walk by in idyllic peace, carefully dodging the deranged city cars and volvo buses – even they had gotten themselves adapted to the city. Adapt or perish!

Koshy chettan made quite an entrance in his dazzling Karizma. Long hair, unshaven face, he was the ‘cool’ Bangalore techie, a handsomer version of his talented brother. Koshy chettan’s friend Nithin chettan had also come along to pick the two of us up. After a quick trip through the congested Bangalore roads, we reached the apartment that would be our home for the coming three days. The apartment was new and modern, but lacked furniture. Four chairs, a couple of tables, and a plethora of electronic and electrical appliances including four laptops, a pc, iPods, Television, Home-theatre and everything you’d ever need. To top it all, the place was fully WiFi! Heaven! \m/ The apartment was home to Koshy chettan, Nithin chettan and five other techies – all of them working in companies from Samsung to IBM. The average salary here was a cool forty grand. I couldn’t help but wide-eyedly adore all of ‘em. As we reached, the techies were in various stages of wakefulness and readying-up for office. Some hadn’t yet woken up, due to some  heavy duty ‘night outs’! All of them knew Paul from descriptions by his endearing brother. I got myself acquainted with them, and bade them goodbye as they left for work one by one (bearing a kilo each of axe on their torsos! ).

Day 1 at Bangalore was mostly about sleep. Yeah, we had the entire day to while away. We watched a couple of movies on TV, surfed the net for a while, and got a good day’s sleep at the crammed up mattresses in the three bedroom flat. The chilly, and comfortable Bangalore weather only added to our moods and appetite. Breakfast and Lunch were from Kerala hotels in the vicinity. The food was very relishing and refreshing. I ran into Nikhil Narayanan during lunch, which was a pleasant surprise in itself! I’ve known Nikhil (Quizzer-AWESOME blogger- വന്‍ സംഭവം) from BlogCamp – he works as a consultant in HP, at a TechnoCity nearby. Nikhil looked all haggard (probably from overworking) – even he seemed happy to meet me. Since he had other engagements to take care of, I got his number and bade him goodbye.

Meanwhile, a disastrous incident happened at home. There’s this cousin of mine living with us – the a$$hole stole numbers of female friends from my phone and stalked many of them up, introducing himself as my friend! It took a quick heads up from my sis to enlighten me about the situation, and I did necessary damage control, including reporting the matter to my parents. Though the issue was solved, it remained a splinter in my mind, only to devolve itself into a nagging headache as I woke up at 4.30 PM that day. Soon, claustrophobia seeped in and I felt suffocated sitting in the apartment. It took a lot of reassuring words from friends to cheer me up again. Finally, steadying myself up, I went out with Paul’s brother and room-mates for dinner at another Kerala restaurant. I got back home, fully satiated by the food. After an hour or so of small-talking with the techies, Paul and I hit the sack.

And if you failed to notice – It was the CAT eve and we hadn’t even bothered to open our books once!!

To be continued…

P.S.

Could’ve written it in a single post, but as you can already see, this has become too long! Stay tuned.

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It’s not everyday that you get to see the flashes of innate talent that amaze you beyond conventional benchmarks of surprise! You aren’t just blown away by amazing feats of passion and paragon – you stand stupefied and dumbfound at such wondrous talent closer to genius and perfection, and that too from 20-21 year olds!

It so happens that some of my best buddies have come up with such magnanimous works of art that I couldn’t help, but blog about ‘em! These kids are of my age. And all of them in their final year of engineering at the esteemed College of Engineering, Trivandrum. You can’t call them novices or amateur’s. With their maiden works of art, they’ve literally had the entire town talking about them…

Without further ado, let me present before you – The Latest Pirates and Synth!

The Latest Pirates

Six spirited Electrical Engineering students – Harisankar SA, Chaitin, Dileep, Shivan, Sidharth and ‘Ponni’ (I don’t know this dude’s real name. Or rather, no one does! ) a.k.a. Arun A, made quite an impact with their ‘Pinneyum Palavattam‘. With a bang, they’ve come up with another pioneering adaptation of the “Unnam Marannu” song from ‘In harihar nagar’. The entire song is remastered and fully re-scripted with College of Engineering, Trivandrum (and the entire city of Trivandrum), being the background. The video is very cheekily titled – In Engineering College.

Trust me, one look and you’ll concur. It’s SO MIND-BLOWINGLY AWESOME!

Even professional comedians from TV would find it hard to match up to their perfection. Kudos, guys!

Check out more videos from these pirates at: http://thelatestpirates.jimdo.com/

Synth

Synth was the brainchild of a coterie of music lovers from CET. Subu, Anand, Sandeep, JK and Navaneeth, with help from Minu, Rameshwar, Jishnu and Anand, released their maiden album. Haunting themes, mellifluous voices and fantastic songs. One attempt at listening to any one of their tracks and you’d totally fall in love with ‘em all. Another fantastic band, which has already drawn rave reviews from all over town!

Here’s a track from Synth:

Synth | Upload Music

Check out Synth at http://synthmusic.jimdo.com/

Feel free to promote the work of these young artists!

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Statutory Warning: Looooooooooooooooong post! Read at your own risk!

Dhwani 09 – the prestigious intercollegiate cultural festival by College of Engineering, Trivandrum, was held on April 3rd, 4th, 5th and 6th at the college premises. Regarded by many as one among the best cultural festivals of the state, the festival falls in the league of Ragam – the flagship cult-fest by NITC. The latest edition of Dhwani happened after a hiatus of three years, and was already the talk of the town. Due to some quirk of fate (or rather, on the persistance of my friend Satish), I found myself at CET that fine morn, on April 4. A coordinator of an intercollegiate festival myself, my trip to Dhwani was essentially observational with the sole intent to garner organizational tip-offs or maybe get in touch with potential fest-sponsors.

I had no idea, not even in the back of my mind,  that I’d get into the finals of five events, including Mr Dhwani – the coolest personality contest in town!!

Satish wanted me as his partner in English debate. But I had my MBA Coaching class at Time that day. Considering the fact that 99% of my batchmates at Time were CETians; With all of them at Dhwani, it would be pointless to attend the forlorn class. Thus, I gingerly stepped into the sprawling 125-acre campus of CET. The day zipped by fast. I participated in the Malayalam JAM (where I couldn’t even open my mouth!), which was followed by the prelims of Block & Tangles and Adzap. The remaining part of the day was DISASTER. Block & tangles was a train-wreck of sorts! We had none other than IIM-A against us, who eventually bagged the first place! The finals made me realize for the umpteenth time that I lack spontaneity and humor sense! Dejected, I went on to write the prelimns of Persona, Mock Press and Ananthapuri Chopsuey(A ‘Potpourri’ event), all back-to-back. Having racked my brains in the true sense of the word,  famished, having missed food since morning, I reached home at 7 PM and flopped down onto the bed.

I was woken up by a phone call which announced unceremoniously that I’ve been selected for the finals of Mock Press. It was followed by a series of calls which announced my entry into the finals of Adzap and *surprise-surprise* Mr & Miss Dhwani!! Aneesh (the coordinator of the persona event and a friend of mine) called me up and cooly announced: “Buddy, you’ve made it to the second round of Persona.” I couldn’t believe what I heard! Yeah, I was one step closer to being Mr. Dhwani!

I’ve always been fascinated by personality contests and it’s been my dream to get into the final stage of  a Persona. As yet, my only experience has been Sargam 2008 – the arts festival at my college – where I royally sucked, despite having virtually no competition. Ever since, it’s remained a splinter in my  mind. Bad luck, my constant companion, always finds some way to be with me all the time. It seems fests were jinxed for me in 2009! There would be some clash and I would not be able to write the prelims of any perosnality contest. The jinx continued till Ragam – I’d to skip Mr & Miss Ragam for What’s the Good Word’ prelims, which I didn’t clear either! I thought the jinx would persist for Dhwani too, where the finals of Block & Tangles clashed with persona prelims initially. However, the timing for Persona prelims was made flexible so as to eliminate clashes, and the jinx lifted itself! I wrote the prelims after five pm, right after the B&T finals.  The questions were a tad different, and I kinda liked ‘em! I tried to be candid and put my mind to paper. I thought I’d done it in a strictly-okay way. But I never had the remotest idea that I’d clear it.

In the second round, twelve of us finalists (six guys and six girls) were divided into groups of three. Each group was given a topic and were asked to enact a drama on stage. The theme for my team was ‘horror’. My team mates were Isly (from RIT Kottayam), Gayathri (Mar Ivanios, Trivandrum) and Akhilesh Warrier (Mar Baselios College of Engineering & Technology). Now, Akhilesh is one AWESOME guy with countless (female) fans and personality to match, not to mention looks! The President of UNI-Y, he was a favourite and almost everyone expected him to be Mr Dhwani!

The next day, none of our team members could reach CET in time. Even though Isly and I made it, the others were a bit late. I was preoccupied with What’s the good word prelimns (which I didn’t clear, yet again!). By the time Akhilesh and Gayathri had reached college and all of us met up, it was twelve thirty. And we had to get on stage in an hour or so. We decided not to go slapstick and tried a serious story, after all our theme was ‘Horror’! Akhilesh came up with a theme that portrayed how suppression of ideas is the greatest horror in the world. We finalized three anecdotes from history: The practice of Sati, Galilio’s fate when he said the Earth is round, and Hitler’s ruthlessness and supression of ideas. Incidentally, I played the villain in all three anecdotes and the finals scene had all the other three pinning me down & killing me. We did a random quick-practice session and waited to get on stage.

Thankfully, ours was the third item on stage. The first session was about love. Gayathri (From LBS, not to be confused with my teammate), George, Teresa and another guy (I forgot his name!) showcased a cliched but tongue in cheek college-love-story about two couples who go on a double date.  The story ends with a twist when the guys get ‘attracted’ to each other and ‘move on’! The judges – Pranav (IIMC) and Aravind (MDI), both alumni of CET (and Loyola School! ) had a fun time crushing all of them. Next came the second team who had a theme ‘Drama’. Madhuri (my senior at college), Saran Soman (Senior at school, Final year medical student), Neethu and Renju Rajiv were the team members. Titled ‘Slumdog Mr Dhwani’, it showcased a slumdog trying his hand over the Mr. Dhwani title against a ‘cool dude’. It ended with all characters cutting their veins and suiciding. Then came ours. We elicited the most hoots from the crowd, for our theme was serious. Still, we put up a decent show on stage, (excluding a few guffaws from yours-truly who shouted ’20 flags to galileo!!’ instead of ‘flogs’! ) The judges tried screwing us up, but we stood with heads held high, refusing even to vote out our team members.

I had a AdZap soon after the second round and we cooked up a quick ad campaign, went on stage, and managed to walk away with the third prize. Soon, all 12 of us finalists were asked to proceed to the third floor of the main building where the stress interview would commence. Many of us were stunned at the fact that the interviewee was none other than Mr Rahul Easwar himself!! Expecting major screw ups, people gingerly stepped inside. Akhilesh, among the first to go in, returned with a smile, muttering “T’was ok.”.  All of us smiled.

I was the third to go in. Rahul ushered me in with a smile and asked me quirky questions based on the crap I’d written in the questionaire. It went roughly like this.

Rahul: Hi Hari!
Hari: Good day, sir!

R: Hmm… it seems that you’re the only blogger here!

H: Not really, many others have blogs, but I feel I’m the only guy who takes blogging seriously!

R: That’s nice. And btw, you’ve written here that you’re unique. Elaborate on that.

H: *Oops* That’s true, sir. Fact is that, I’ve qualities that are way different from others and in that way, I am unique.

R: What’s your take on reservations?

(I almost Duh-ed!)

H: I’m totally against it, blah blah, yada yada!

R: Don’t you think it’s good for minorities, blah blah?

H: No, reservation should be based on purely economic criteria… blah blah blah!

R: Tell me three of your passions

H: Quizzing, Blogging, Psephology.

*Didn’t mean to say the last one, which means the art of predicing election results! But that was my blah moment, yes and I had to say whatever that came to my mind! *

R: Psephology, interesting, very interesting!!

Goes on to ask me questions to test my ‘quizzing’ knowledge. I manage to answer some, if not all!

R: Btw, do you have a girlfriend?

H: Nope, I don’t.

R: Why not?

H: I believe it’s a sheer waste of time, NOT to mean that I don’t believe in love, but the *affairs* I see around me are shallow to an appalling level… yada yada

*Rahul gets bored now! *

R: Hey, what’s on your tee? It reads funk soul, right? Are you a funk person?

H: Not really, it looks good on me, so I thought I’d wear it.

R: Better wears ome decent clothes when you get on stage… anyways, nice meeting you Hari, all the best. C ya!

And, they called that a stress interview… sigh!

I got badly scrwed up in Mock Press later on, where the half of CET literally booed me out of  stage as I sat there as Naradan. It was followed by an equally disastrous Ananthapuri Chopsuey where the three of us cooked up some really arbit stuff. Meanwhile, Aneesh calls me again to confirm my entry into the finals of Mr & Miss Dhwani 09!

Reminded of Rahul’s dig at my Tee, I borrowed Akhilesh’s Kurta while he adorned himself in a stylish shirt. Akhilesh, Saran, George, Neethu, Madhuri, Gayathri (not the All Saints one – my team-mate in round two. The all saints Gayathri got selected, but had to leave on parental pressure) and Teresa were the finalists. I was the inevitable blue-eyed guy of the pack. Grossly ignored by my team-mates (except for an affable Saran chettan – who happens to be a fellow blogger and greatly adored senior at school, and Madhuri Chechi; not to mention occasional glances from Akhilesh), I walked about re-kindling a very feeble hope that I also stand a chance.

My intro sucked bigtime. I tried to shout out and connect to the audience and was moderately successful, but it was nothing compared to the *kinglike* entry of Saran and the graceful walk-in by Akhilesh. Saran was lifted onto the stage by his friends, in a very ROYAL fashion. His charm and his witty demeanour gave him immense crowd support. From the girls, Gayathri chechi too made a fantastic crowd connect with her charming but self-assured style. I couldn’t do much but sigh!

Next came the talent round. I had nothing in my kitty but to show off my singing skills, and I sand Kya Mujhe Pyaar Hai, again, to reasonable applause from the crowd. Akhilesh made up a ‘How NOT to participate in a persona’, taking digs at everyone else (especially Saran). Saran did a kick-ass, fun, dance performance. And yeah, he belly danced with good ol’ Smita – the compere. (Now, for me, she was the discovery of Dhwani ’09. I’ve heard many say that she’s *THE* most talented gal in CET, but has loads of attitude to match. Yes, she does, but trust me, she’s a gem of a person and the persons who know her closely would agree)

Next came the vote-out round. I heard George muttering that he would vote out the least eligible guy cause he needed competition. My heart churned. And well, he did vote me out. Along with Neethu and Teresa. I was Jack’s ripped-off-sense-of-ego. I thought I’d quit then and there, for it was utterly pointless to be on that stage for a second more, but well, I stayed on. The vote out was an informal round, and no one would physically get voted out, the judges announced later.

The Q&A round which followed saw a blitzkreig of *serious* questions at me. I dodged them well, but the crowd started booing! Then the judges asked me to make the clap for me. I counted till ten, and a few girls from the corner did start clapping – much to my relief. I was the quickest to be sent back. I thought I’d leave then and there, but I waited for the contest to end, just to see who the winner is. I was sure Akhilesh would be Mr Dhwani and Madhuri Chechi would be Ms. Dhwani, but unfortunately fates proved otherwise. Saran Soman became Mr Dhwani, and Gayathri secured Ms. Dhwani. Dejected, but happy for Saran Chettan, I silently left the place.

Loss, failure, depression. The feeling was unpalatable. I felt ignored and my ego took a severe beating. My heart bled and I felt my ears go pink. Gobbling up a few quick sweetmeats from a local teashop, I walked all the way home, my head bowed down in defeat, with a firm resolve in mind to come back next year… as THE WINNER!

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Drunkards seem to be the pick of the week for me! I just keep running into them like hell, and they bug me to the point of near-insanity! After the rather bloviating encounter with this loquaciously-psychic ex-military guy at the train last Saturday, I had a skirmish with this inebriated trio of seniors at college today (13^th March, Thursday). It turned out to be a fiasco of epic proportions, at least for my egotist-self. The rendezvous left me terse, depressed, and dejected all through evening. I still haven’t got over the whole damn thing yet, and that’s precisely the reason why I’m blogging about it. (A well-written post is the best stress-buster for a depressed blogger; take it from me!)

Statutory Warning: I’m writing this for myself, not for you, dear reader. So if you’ve come here for a quick flip; better leave. This is goanna be long (and even boring, for that matter). If you’re interested, read on. It won’t be a bad read, after all!

Btw, the readers are expected to ‘read between the lines’ (you’ll know what I mean soon)

I wasn’t exactly on the top of the world after my Electronic Circuits lab exam (University, no less!) that fateful day. Bad moods coupled with non-conditional CRO-probes made my easy question a tough nut to crack; the decent viva performance and partial output being my saving grace. A disheartening lunch with motley classmates actually added on to my appetite. Calling it a long day, I was heading home when my classmate who’d given me company remembered that he’d forgotten a book at the canteen. When he rushed back to get it, I offered to hold his heavy, 10-kilo bag (a decision I’ll regret later); waiting for him at the main entrance of my college.

I then notice two final-year seniors (self proclaimed ‘Royal Mexx’) trudge towards me arm-in-arm, shoulder-by-shoulder. Since I’m in talking terms with them, I wave a ‘Hi’, and smile. One’s ‘S’ and the other’s ‘A’.
A: Handsome guy. Cool dude with a penchant for smart tees. “I-rule-this-college” attitude.
S: Not as ‘qualified’ as his arm-mate. Duffer of sorts. Succinctly put, a pain-in-the-a$$ guy with braces in his ill-formed teeth. His attitude’s worse than A.
The inherent sway in their motion plus that obnoxious smell which permeated as they drew close enlightened me. The dudes are drunk!

S: “Enthuvaada, nee bag kachavadam thudaniyo? Ithentha kayyil randu bag?”
(Dude, why do you have 2 bags with you? Bag-mongering eh?”)
Me: “Aanennu koottikko! Entha chettanu veno?”
(If you say so! Why, you want one?)
S: “Dey, kooduthal moda kaanichal undallo… Nee eathu class il aa?”)
(Hey smartass, stop showing off! Which class are you from?”)
Me: “Ithennodu aaraamthe praavashyaam aanu chettan chodikkunnathu!”
(“You’re asking this to me for the sixth time!”)
S: “Parayeda… nee eathu class il aa?” (S’s ugly face contorts to total disarray)
(Stop blabbering. Which class are you from?”)
Me: “Paranjillengil…?”
(What if I don’t tell you?)
S: “Ninte kaavalam adichu pottikkum!”
(I’ll beat you up!)
Me: “Pinne… kore pottikkum! Kuppi pottikkum! Ho, naareeettu vayya. Onnu maari ninne chetta!”
(Aw c’mon. You better go break your empty whisky bottles! Keep off, the smell’s gross! Yuck!)

I notice S’s expression morph into an inscrutable one. Quite uncharacteristic of him, A is silent all the while. Now, he starts talking.

A: (At s) “Vada namukku povam!” (At me) “Paranjapole ninte perentha?”
(C’mon man, let’s go.) (Btw, what’s your name?)

Me: “Njaan Hari. S4 IT”.

Without a further word, they disappear. I move around, schmoozing with fellow-GECians, when my friend runs to me with the book. We ride pillion in another friend’s Activa. He drops me at Law College Junction, from where PMG’s (a busy junction at Trivandrum) just a hundred metres away. As I walk, I get a call from my batch-mate at Mechanical, who asks me to return to college pronto for something urgent. I didn’t quite like the tone of his voice. Why’d he want me back? I’ve never talked to him even once this year. As I walk back half the distance, this guy comes to pick me up in his Karizma! Now, that’s quite odd. Something’s wrong somewhere.

After a quick display of the guy’s biking skills, I reach the college-gate in maybe five seconds. I notice three final years sitting by the steps, faces and expressions stern and tough. Joining S and A was T, a skinny but brainy and capable guy who used to be more friendly with me than the other two. T beckons the guy who brought me to leave, which he does: his face turning as stern, probably a notch more than his seniors. By now, I guessed the issue. I felt my stomach do a back-flip and a pump of adrenaline. Still, I keep a cool head, smiling gracefully at my seniors: asking innocently:

“Entha chettanmaare enne vilichathu?”
(Why did you guys call me?)
“Irikkade avide!” (Sit down!), S says, fingers pointed to the step below… It was a command.
“Oh. Ningal irikkumbo njaan nikkaano, bahumaanam okke…”)
(C’mon, I’m not supposed to sit when you’re sittin..)

The smile on my face is still prominent

“Bha! Panna ____ ! Ninnodu irikkaanalle paranjathu!”)
(You bloody M**#$*#@! Didn’t I ask you to sit?)

Here’s where it all happened!

I flinch. The smile
prematurely-died. That was the first time someone verbally abused me, erm, in such ‘strong’ terms. I quietly obeyed.

S: “Ninakkenthaada, seniors ine bahumaanam ille?”
(Don’t you respect seniors?)
Me: “Athinu njaan enthu cheythu?”
(But, what did I do?)
S: “Nee eathu class il aanu?”
(In which class are you?)
Me: “Ithenthonnu?”
(Cut the crap!)
S: “M@#$# ! T@#$#!! Maryaadyakku nee eathu class il aanennu paranjo!)
(You bloody M*********, tell me in which class you are!)

I’m harried. But I go by his words just to please him.

Me: “S4 IT!”
S: “Nee eathu class ila?”
Me (really angry this time): “S4 IT!”
S: “Nee eathu class ila?”
Me: “Mathi! Chetta… over aakalle!! Kudichu ennu paranjondu enthum kaanikkaam ennu thonnaruthu!”
(Enough’s enough! Don’t think you have the license to do anything ‘coz you’re drunk!)

S: “Bha… <long line of beeps. Fill in with the choicest Mallu abuses starting with ‘ത’, ‘മ’, ‘പു’, et al..>
Me: K “Ithenthu…”
(What the…)

S: “Nirtheda! Ninte moda okke njangal college il ninnum poyittu mathi, kettoda panna ______!”
(Stop you… Keep showing your bloody a$$ off after we pass out! )

T (in a matter-of-factly-tone) : “Eda. Nee seniors ine respect cheyyaan padikkanam. Seniorisnoodu bahumaanathodu perumaaranam!”
(You should learn to respect seniors!)

A torrent of emotions gripped me. It began with a sea of anger, at being verbally abused for no significant reason at the whims of an intoxicated duffer. The fit of ire saw me retort back with vigor, keeping my limits as a junior, nonetheless. Further abuses, added on to my plight; had I not been physically disabled thanks to a surgery, I’d have hit the guy back. Eventually, I realized that it was all a façade I’d made about me. At the end of it all, I lost control over myself, and felt my voice break into sobs; tears strolling down my eyes!

I couldn’t believe it at first. It all happened so involuntarily, even before I could think further. I felt ashamed, but there I stood weeping like a girl, desperately controlling my sobs! My tears softened their blitzkrieg, apparently. T came down to me, held my shoulder, and tried to calm me. I didn’t hear him; I was busy controlling the demons in my mind. He was part-apologizing, part-offering me a juice to drink, part offering me to leave me home. I was sobbing, refusing his offers, desperate to escape home. A minor-crowd gathered around us while I was making an ass out of myself! Meanwhile, A stopped a biker who passed by asking him to leave me to PMG. It was none other than Anoop Chettan(S8 EC), the erstwhile IEEE head of my college; the very person who renewed my membership! (Damn, another ‘impression’ ruined!) After a lot of coaxing and cajoling from his and T’s part, I agreed to ride pillion with him.

In a bid to calm me, perhaps, Anoop chettan changed the topic, incessantly questioned me about the LiNK meeting, and part-congratulated me on me being elected the hub-driver. Overwhelmed by emotions, I managed succinct replies, in a sobbing voice. I got off at Law College junction, thanking him for the lift, and began walking to PMG with a heavy heart, confused mind and a bad mood which hasn’t yet worn itself off…

Apart from large-scale disgrace and humiliation, the fiasco led me to a temporary fit of introspection. Being a boys’ school product, I’ve heard enough abuses all through my life. But, it was the first time I myself was victim to some of such choicest abuses. I evidently over-reacted to the issue. But my reaction wasn’t pre-planned or something. It was just it; a reaction, instinctive and guttural. It was even a discovery of sorts: I had a sensitive side to my character. Though I’d learnt to be stoic at the face of difficulties, I hadn’t quite mastered the art of being immune to them, the art of keeping my head above all the time…

Ah, I can feel my stress bust off like popping balloons. Blogging helps, dude!

Thanks for reading through the four-page big crap!

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