I must be in College

It’s been a while since my last post. Let’s just blame it all on a lack of joblessness. Personally, Id’ hate to mark the end of a short hiatus with an ordinary post about some arbit thing I saw… but guess what?

The other day, while filling up my bottle at a hostel water dispenser, I noticed something. What I saw looked somewhat like this:

Now if you take the trouble of looking closely at the floor of the dispenser, you’d notice an ant like creature in there. And if you look very, very closely, you would notice the following:

For all non science students (if such beings truly exist), that is a resistor. It belongs in an electrical engineering lab. And my old friend Mr. BB Roy tells me that its resistance value is 2200 ohms, with a tolerance of 5%.

Thus far, I have resisted (couldn’t help writing that!) the temptation of ending my posts with a question, but what the heck?

Q. In which part of the world would you be most likely to find a resistor in a water dispenser?

A. Athos

B. Pothos

C. Aramis

D. D’Artagnan

That was such a cup question.

I mean, Slumdog was pretty good, but 2 crore for that? Sheesh!

[Record Button On]

Note: This short story was my entry in the Shaastra Science Fiction Writing Contest, and it won 2nd place in the Short Sketch Writing Category. However, I was soon to realize that there is no prize for 2nd place.

Well, here it is anyway. The topic, by the way, is “An astronaut’s last message to his crew.”

——————————————————————————————————————–

[Record button on.]

“Hello! I hope my voice is clear. This microphone is so tiny I doubt if I can adjust it in any way.”

(Static, then silence.)

“Today is the 28^th of September, 2035. This is Captain Sharma, in the Martian sands. The atmospheric temperature is approximately 42 degrees Celsius below zero. This is our first attempt to locate and recover the 20 different Mars rovers that have been lost in these wastelands after having landed here. I am near the predicted approximate location of the Opportunity rover, with which all communication was lost 26 years ago.”

“The mystery of what happened to all of those rovers is, as of now, unsolved. Many people have come up with theories about why all contact was simultaneously severed with them. Today, we attempt an answer to that question.”

“Did you record that, Yuri? Good, store it.”

(Footsteps.)

“The Martian surface is much like conditions simulated in the testing area- there seem to be no major surprises. Wait- the sand in this part is rather interesting; it appears significantly less grainy than elsewhere, besides having a darker red colour. Such sands have never been reported from Mars before. Are you receiving the visual feed, Yuri? OK.”

“The sand here is extremely loose and happens to be unlike anything on –AAAAAAAH!”

(Thud. Static.)

“Uggh! Yuri. YURI! Do you hear me? Ah, thank god you can. I seem to have fallen down through the loose sand. Don’t lose track of my location, I may need you or John to come down here and rescue me.”

(Tapping sounds.)

“(Gasp) My god! I think I have stumbled upon an advanced civilization below the surface! This is astounding, I’ve never seen anything quite like this, it’s- it’s wonderful! This mission is giving me goose bumps all over again; it’s like my first flight training at the Indian Air Force, all those years ago in 2008.”

“Yuri, are you getting this visual feed?”

“WHAT? The feed isn’t coming through? But this is a huge discovery, the discovery of the century. We have to get this.”

“Alright, nevermind- I’ll record this and bring it back to the capsule.”

(Static.)

“I wonder what all of these devices are for. There seems to be a rather large collection of advanced alien technology here, but I can’t find any aliens.”

“No, wait! I’ve seen this before, this device- in fact, all of these. I’ve seen these somewhere. This is all high tech equipment for manufacturing robots and stuff, I’m sure. I might just have stumbled upon a Martian robotics workshop! Wow!”

“Yuri, this is a glorious find- we’re going to be more famous than Armstrong’s crew! These devices are astonishingly similar to the ones I’ve seen on earth. In fact, I saw these sorts of things at NASA, in the Jet Propulsion Lab where they manufacture rovers.”

“Wait, this thing here has something written on it- whoa, it’s in English! I wonder if Martians evolved the same way as we did. This is massive; it’s such a big discovery!”

(Silence.)

“Yuri, this cannot be a coincidence. I have a very bad feeling about it. I want to get out of here now. Yuri! I need you, answer me! Are you alright, are you still there? John, what’s going on? Oh, please, don’t do this to me- say something!”

(Sudden noises, the buzz of electric engines.)

“No, stop! No, please, DON’T! Yuri, do something, help me! It’s them – it’s the Mars Rovers! Help- there’s a hundred of them, they’re surrounding me. No, no, no- they’re coming after me, help me, they’re evil! They have screwdrivers, they’ve got soldering irons! They’ll kill me with their screwdrivers!”

(Rapid footsteps, sounds of a struggle. Thud.)

“Ugh! Not the hacksaw, no- AAAARGHH- MY HAND! Help, they’re coming at me! Save me, they’re going to drill a hole through- AAAAAAR- no, not over there, don’t cut me over-”

(Static.)

“CADET SHARMA! Stop fiddling with your flight suit’s recording equipment and GET BACK to your training!”

“Sir, Yes Sir!”

“And drop down and give me 30 push ups before you go.”

“Sir, Yes Sir!”

[Record button off.]

The Journal of a Journeyman Journalist

Park Street, Kolkata

11:45 pm

December 24, 2021

The hordes of Tata hatchbacks whizzed past the traffic bots, their drivers a bit over excited by their single day’s reprieve from the stringent traffic control measures. The occasion for this relaxation of rules was the eve of a major festival: a festival whose joyous celebration has become as much a deep rooted part of Bengali culture as the ever popular Robindra Sangeet or the much loved Rosogulla.

Traffic policemen lay lazily in their jeeps, oblivious to the fact that the news reporter on their mobile GPRS televisions was barking away about increased drunk driving around Christmas time. Park Street was, as always, overcrowded with cars, all passengers having braved the traffic just to catch a glimpse of the famous Christmas day decorations.

They were not disappointed.

The streets were full of blinding lights,

Sleighs and reindeer filled the sights.

White and red flooded the eye

The decorations stretched for many a mile.

While the travellers enjoyed their sight, company- sponsored ‘Santas’ moved along in their “real” reindeer sleighs, handing out provisions to the needy, and getting some free publicity in the process. The hustle of the cars merged seamlessly with the relaxed pace of the various Santa Clauses. Only in Kolkata could such a scene exist.

But there was one different camp in the vicinity, distinct from those around.

For, despite all of Kolkata’s Bada Din charm,

There existed those who meant it harm.

For them Christmas is not a festival;

It is but an import, as American as McDonald’s.

One of the many results of evil Capitalism,

A Communist society must not bow down.

I sighed. Some things never change.

I have to mug for quiz…

…. but here I am again, this time with my complaints.

You know your life is pretty dull when you spend a Saturday night mugging Applied Mechanics and writing some random shit on your blog.

You know your life is even duller if you expect the coming Saturdays to pass on a similar note.

And finally, you know your life is miserable beyond human limits if your class is planning to schedule two consecutive Electrical Engineering Labs every Saturday afternoon.

There is a downside to everything,

Alas, engineering has shown me one of its own.

Pirates of Pampa: The Curse of the Pink Rakhi

Water, water everywhere,

And all the boards did shrink.

Water, water everywhere,

And my hand did turn pink.

(Apologies to S.T. Coleridge)

Knock Knock

Room Number 758, Pampa Hostel, IITM.

7:45 am.

Arbit passer by: Knock Knock!

Me: (In a sleepy daze) Who dat?

Arbit passer by: Waiqap.

Me: (rubbing the sand from my eyes) Waiqap who?

Arbit passer by: Wake up. Class starts in 15 minutes.

This pretty much describes my first conversation of the day, everyday. The conversation is usually followed by the now routine ritual of fast- forwarded tooth brushing, peeing, deodorising and changing clothes, culminating in the race to class which always ends with me reaching late by 5 minutes.

[Note: The author maintains that contrary to popular belief, he is very concerned with his personal hygiene. He does bathe everyday, though the morning shower is no longer a regular event.]

Now, in all of this, the part that I find disturbing is that I am no longer disturbed by my own routine. I’ve really gotten too used to it to bother much if I wake twenty minutes too late for three days in a row.

Is it really just me?

A TYPICAL PHYSICS CLASS CONVERSATION

[The following conversation took place in the form of chits being passed around during a physics lecture. Any resemblance to people (or professors) dead or living (or the undead) is intentional and non- coincidental.]

Adeel: What’s del cross A?

Vinayak: Dunno. Is the hair on the rest of your body as curly as that on your head?

Adeel: Kinda. Seen the sort of hair the guys in Jackass had? A bit like that.

Vinayak: Dude, MSV (name changed to protect privacy) looks like one of those mad torturing doctors in old Nazi films.

Adeel: ??

Vinayak: You know, ‘Heil Hitler’,'Herr Doktor’, gas chambers, hundreds of dead jews.

Adeel: ??

(Cue: Bell ringing. Class over.)

Vinayak: You know, for a while I felt that the hair in your nose was trying to break out of its prison and gain control over the rest of your body. But I think you trimmed it.

Ich bin ein blogger

After many a failed attempt at regular blogging, the combination of extreme boredom in my life and the need for an outlet has led me to finally set up a regular blog (of sorts).

I just hope that lethargy or any of the other demons I am well acquainted with don’t mess up my first serious effort. At any rate, here’s to a great beginning… or a slow and painful death, whichever comes.