Cheap Times, Cheap Thrills

Exam time looms near. Just when I should be stepping up a gear, I find the urge to blog more than usual and post something other than New Zealand match reports. My overall handling of the work ethic here reminds me of a blurb from an Archie comic:

ARCHIE's MOM: My Archie's like a car...always on the go.
JUGHEAD's MOM: My Juggie's like a car too....only he's always in neutral.

My latest musing is that life is quite trite and unnecessarily expensive at the moment, compared to my undergrad days. You, the college goer, must have looked back on school days and thought "Shit...there was a whole lot you could do with 2/5/10 bucks back then...those were such fun filled days." Think on those lines and you'll get my drift. Now I spend about 10 to 15 dollars a day on food and other things (as well as unmentionable amounts on textbooks, etc), which feels like wasteful extravagance when I look back at the RV phase (the 'tax free' days as I'd like to call them). Trouble is, I'm not sure whether that phase has completely passed and I'm supposed to move on, or I'm stuck in some state of flux between that phase and the next one, whatever it is. So it's time for nostalgia once more, a list of random things I miss about college life back then. Since very few things are free, I shall preface the list by saying the best things in life are cheap. Beneath these layers of assumed sophistication, I'm still a cheap guy.

1. BIRDWATCHING
THEN: I think we were really lucky to be in the Electrical Department. Not because it attracted an exceptionally interesting crowd, but it had some architectural significance. We would position oursleves conveniently atop the parapet adjacent to that classroom (103 was it?) and survey the expanse below for potential eye-candy. The forerunners of this mostly fulfilling exercise were two good friends, whom I shall call Bajaj Chaurasia and Sincerely Darker (the major characters in my soon-to-be released fiction series, "The Chronicles of Bajaj: Misadventures of a Simple Mind"). October, it was acknowledged, was the season. That was when the junies came in. Bajaj was the database: his in-depth expertise and knowledge of any details concerning the individual specimens we sighted was peerless. Darker was the able spy, and I chipped in with useful strategic advice and imaginative inputs of my own. All this ensured reasonable ROI without ever having to reach into our own wallets. Unambitious, we were. Anything beyond? Never struggled for it, never achieved it.

NOW: The endless mass of distant white faces + lack of well-informed peers + the unwillingness to move my ass means it becomes a tiring exercise in UT Austin.

2. THE CANTEEN
THEN: Our RV Canteen was low on variety but high on dependablilty. Idli-dosa-vada, however, is something my stomach is fine with any time of the day - breakfast, lunch or post-lunch. The real bonus was when the sambar would be steaming hot - you could feel the satisfactory effects in your bloodstream. No fuss at all, and for a price range of 3 to 20 rupees you could feed yourself well enough. We graduated to DL as the years went by and our craving for variety took over. The ability to extract treats was something of a sport...a battle of wits and a means for one-upmanship. Having been on the receiving end a few times, it felt a bit like having the rug pulled from under your feet and landing you flat on your face (minus the physical injury of course). As a couple of classmates would have it, "All in the game".

NOW: Spending five bucks (dollars) per meal on a sandwich/burger with a zillion toppings to choose from somehow doesn't cut it. Extra for a drink is a bigger turn off, fortunately the water is universally good. Treats? The last I remember I gave one to some kids who came knocking at the door on Halloween night.

3. XEROX
THEN: The lifeline of every aspiring engineer. I must've spent a good chunk of time whiling away in xerox shops while some material (which would ensure I cleared the internal the next day) was being duplicated. I find the act of lounging about in the cheap, dingy atmosphere of xerox shops mildly stimulating in the same way some non-smokers feel oddly at home in a smoking zone. Xeroxing in bulk was pretty expensive, but it was always a vital investment. Besides all xerox shops in the vicinity were well mapped so you were spoiled for choice: 30p, 60p or Re1 xerox - take your pick. Add to this the cost-cutting 'mini' xerox (2 pages on a sheet), and the nefarious, last-resort 'micro' xerox, and you had quite a few options to work with as the situation demanded. On the subject of xerox, I think a shop that calls itself 'Krishna Xerox' in Malleswaram deserves a mention. I'm sure most modern Bangalore engineers would agree.

NOW: In an entire semester, I've done one bit of xeroxing. I had to purchase a card for that, credit it with a certain amount, insert the card and what not before I could use the 'copier'. A fine way to take the piss out of one of life's simple pleasures.

4. THE COLLEGE BUS
THEN: This entry is the odd one out in the list because the bus fees for a semester was expensive to the point of being a ripoff, something like two grand or more. They say the RV bus 'never gets full' and there seemed to be some truth in it - the bus would be overcrowded with people packed like sardines in a tin, and yet there was always room for a few more at the next stop. The drivers (probably taking a cue from us jobless college goers) decided bring some fun into their exceedingly mundane lives and travel at breakneck speeds, not giving two hoots (pun intended) for the rest of the traffic. Schumi deserves honourable mention here. In later sems, Schumi and co. had the added luxury of the radio at their disposal, subjecting us to 100 plus dB of acoustic torture . These travelling conditions as well as the long distance to college and back seemed to bring out the character in everybody. If it got too much, I found myself reaching for my walkman and playing a tape at full blast. Those cassettes helped pass by many a tiresome hour, and I miss them like crazy.

NOW: At least something's free these days. Being a UT student, I don' t have to pay any fare for the shuttle service and the metro buses all over the city. Given that my place is five minutes away from campus by bus, it doesn't really count.


5. QUIZZING
THEN: Sometimes the college routine got to you. If, like me, you had no life and your classmates weren't big on the idea of cutting class for a movie, you needed other excuses to get away. Back then, quizzes used to take place quite regularly in the IEM audi and provided a much needed diversion from the monotony of the classroom. Quizzes and fests in other colleges were even better: you could actually claim attendance on the basis of 'representing the college'. Quizzing apart, i really miss the concept of those fests. Travelling all the way to a rival college, comparing the crowd, canteen and everything else there to what we had in RV. These events were chronicled in some detail by me in a log I called 'Joyrneys of a quizcorper'.

NOW: Quizzing, I found, takes on a whole new meaning here. I enrolled for an Antenna theory course numbered 325K, missed the first class and trudged in for the second. I found everyone silently scribbling on sheets of paper which i learned was the weekly 'quiz', held during the first ten minutes of every Thursday's class. After three failed attempts at scoring even a point on these quizzes I duly dropped the course.

'Tis the season to be hungry

The frequency of national holidays back in India was a source of much comfort and mirth. It afforded some balance to our crazily structured way of life as students and junior employees. There are few sights as understated yet pleasing to the senses as looking through a calendar or diary, and seeing more red dates than there should be. For me, it's a moot point that the last five years seem like one long vacation in hindsight. The lack of national/public holidays here is palpable, so it's no wonder that the Thanksgiving break is probably the high point of this Semester. Plans are chalked up well in advance, with friends and family as the case may be.

The picture of thanksgiving in my head has been built from scenes in the movies with families getting together at a dinner table and carving out a turkey. Sitting at my Aunt's place in Dallas, I finally remember thay I have no idea what the concept of Thanksgiving is all about and decide to look up wikipedia. Not that I was overly bothered about the significance of major festivals in India, but I tried to make it a point to be aware, somewhat. Wikipedia has become a sort of convenience store where you window shop for any odd details which prick your curiosity for no apparent reason. It says, "Thanksgiving, or Thanksgiving Day, is an annual one-day holiday to give thanks, for the things one has at the close of the harvest season. In the United States, Thanksgiving is celebrated on the fourth Thursday of November". It's essentially the story of how White settlers were able to survive in the new world, helped by native Indians in Virginia in the early 17th century. The encounters between the two groups were apparently comemmorated through Feast Days.

This holiday break means more wasting around for me although I will be seeing family. Best of all, I get to pig out a bit since Kalu mami is actually preparing some turkey. One of the rare family members who cooks meat at home, she explains that cooking turkey is an art - it must be marinated overnight, injected with cajun sauce (yes, a syringe is actually used!) and roasted for three hours the next day. At around 175 degrees, it's done. I take a look Not only is this a novelty, but the timing couldn't have been better as I was eating sporadically over the last week in Austin, largely subsisting on junk food and starchy rice dinners. I take a look at the oven and and the sight of the turkey immediately stirs up juices inside - hence the title of this post. The turkey, as Jim Carrey would have it, seems to say "I'll juice you up!" (My lifelong diet of stupid Jim Carrey movies has led me to believe he has a line for every occasion). In the meantime, the Thanksgiving football game, which is an annual tradition, is on TV. My uncle and aunt, who have turned ardent Dallas Cowboys fans in the last 20 years, urge me to grab a beer and learn a bit about the finer points of the game. I successfully grab a beer. The NFL and all 'football' seems another typically American concept, with a lots of action, lots of cheerleading, media involement and elaborate strategy over seemingly nothing. It'll take more than a while to get used to this, although I've comfortably got used to the taste of Heineken which I tried for the first time in Austin. You have to admire the way they keep up tradition though. Maybe it's time the BCCI went back to staging the Chennai test match during Pongal or the Eden Garden's test on New Year's day, as was the norm apparently during the 60s. But sentiment appears to have no place in the overly commercial and money driven world of Indian cricket. But that'll have to be the subject of another post.


Not much else to say, except the greyhound ride from Austin to Dallas was a bit more eventful than usual. With about half an hour to go, there was some confusion over the line I was standing in and I moved over to the correct one. Now, there are different lines for different buses and they seemed to be intersecting in a crazy way, so I had to ask around a bit before I could feel satisfied I was in the right one. With two minutes to go, a man standing a couple of feet behind me was ranting away to a couple of guys behind him and he suddenly went "...waiting here for too damn long. And who's this guy in front of me? Where did he come from? Came outta nowhere.." He then addressed me in a distinctive local drawl, "Hey you..where did you come from? Looks like you've taken my place...you better get your ass right to the end of the line there." I explained, quite clearly I thought, that there was some confusion as to which line was for which bus, I was directed to where I was, and if he had a problem he should have told me at that moment, not half an hour later when we were all ready to board the bus. He replied, in a smug voice, "Don't gimme your Arabic or whatever it is, you better get right back there. I know a Muslim when I see 'em" I was determined not to move, considering it was boarding time and doubly so because this guy was clearly not worth replying to. There was no way I was giving up my place in the line. As he continued making abrasive remarks, I said something to the effect of "That was English, not Arabic..too bad if you couldn't understand, and I'm not a Muslim so you obviously have no idea what you're talking about". Desparate to win this encounter, he retorted "I hope you get to sit next to me. A good three hours, I'll terrorize your Muslim ass so bad...give you a proper Christian terrorizing you'll never forget." "Whatever" I looked him int he eye and said, which caused a few laughs in the line. On he went, saying something about getting a seat next to me. We didn't end up sitting next to each other, which left me wondering whether I had escaped being subjected to the torturing rants of a fanatic, or had actually missed a chance to put this guy in his place since he had no apparent grounds for complaining, and thus asserting myself for once. The nonchalant reaction of the crowd was enough to convince me that I handled things well enough though. And he didn't say a word on the bus.

Where have all the hippies gone?

To B or not to B? That’d probably be what your average Grad Student at the Department of Electrical and Computer Engineering at UT Austin would say, if you asked him (or her) what his greatest fear was at the moment. Getting a ‘B’ Grade in a course isn’t merely a bad thing; it’s taboo. The general rule being, if a course offers any potential of landing you up with a B, avoid it at all costs. The B will stick out like a sore thumb on your marksheet. Just to exaggerate the point, I can almost imagine the partly hypothetical situation where I land up with a B (which isn’t the hypothetical part), and the reaction of the general public (the students) would be a curious mix of sympathy and a ‘how the hell did you disgrace yourself?’ sort of thing. If I sit and survey my academic scene right now, I’m well on the way to a couple of Bs. I’m on a Highway to Hell. The whole B phobia is making me sick. Couple this fear with relative grading et al, and you may understand what a bloody battleground this place is.

In my sudden burst of inspiration and wisdom, I’ve decided that what the world needs is more love and less grades. (duh) The army of long haired people armed with guitars and marijuana sure fought for the right cause (and created some great music too), whatever their lifestyle may have been. Ah Woodstock! Where did you go? Where have all the hippies gone? Don’t tell me they confine themselves to full moon raves at Israel or Goa? To those that exist: Bring your message of love, peace and all that happy shit to a seminar in the Department, for God’s sake, and let them know B Grade is an OK concept; or more to the point, there ain’t no Grade. I’m sitting here by the laptop, telling Bulla that this is our Vietnam. We’re soon to be POWs. Just like the 60s veterans of that lost war have been scarred to the point of being able to do nothing but recount their brushes with Viet Cong, I jokingly wonder, in a parody of this situation, whether all we’ll be able to do in the long run is recall our academic struggles through this degree. If Pete Seeger was writing ‘Where have all the flowers gone’ with my rant in mind, he would probably condense the song into one stanza, something like:

Where have all the hippies gone?

Long time passing,

Where have all the hippies gone?

Long time ago.

Where have all the hippies gone?

Anjuna calling them, everyone

When will they ever learn?

PS: The penultimate line was simply keyed in. I've no idea whether Anjuna is still a hippie rendezvous.

Back to the Drawing Board?: NZ vs Australia

Another belated post, another belated match review. By this time the Aussies have wrapped things up as far as the Champions Trophy is concerned, reminding everyone that they're streets ahead of the rest of the pack. An amazing bench strength is central to their success, and it was one thing the kiwis simply didn't have at the Champions Trophy. A lot has been read into the collapse of the top order last Wednesday, but again it was a 'performance' rather than 'personnel' issue.

In future clashes, the Aussies will no doubt point to their 16 wins in the last 18 encounters between the two sides, but the fact was the kiwis played with enough intensity to have the Aussies on the hop for most of the game. I'd like to believe the defeat was a case of repeating some stupid mistakes. The bowlers gave the side more than a decent chance by restricting the Aussies to 240, including just 52 of the last 10 overs - something unheard of for NZ in recent years. Kyle Mills turned giant-killer overnight, finally taking some load off Shane Bond's already sore back. However, as in World Cup 2003, the batsmen froze when the had a real opportunity. To their credit, the lower-middle order - Oram and Daniel Luca Vettori (what a legend, mate) refused to die and gave the Aussies a scare. But it muts be a bit embarrasing when your chase has to be led by your allrounder and your primary spin bowler. Fleming fell to a somewhat obvious trap, Astle (who looks out of sorts at number 3) was cleaned up before he could get his feet moving while Marshall, Vincent and Fulton were sitting ducks. The dismissals of the last three (especially Vincent and Marshall) were the culmination of a series of largely brainless cricket on their part. Despite the repeated failures of Marshall and Vincent, I still believe they must be persisted with because they have much to offer to the side if they play their natural game. For the moment, Marshall seems obsessed with horizontal-nothing shots as opposed to proper cricketing ones, and Vincent is paying the price for forcing himself to think like a pinch hitter. Much has been made of Peter Fulton's ability, or lack of it, at the top level. On the evidence of his form early in the year, he is good enough and should receive more chances. I don't buy the fact that Ross Taylor is a permanent solution to the middle order, but in those circumstances with both Marshall and Fulton struggling, it would've made sense to bring him in. Overall, the series was a good one for Fleming, in terms of personal performance and handling the side. But, not for the first time, John Bracwell's line of thinking was exposed. Does anyone remember the name Mark Gillespie? I guess not.

There was no disgrace in defeat for the kiwis, especially considering Australia pretty much rolled over everyone else after a false start. But the lack of grit in the top order remains a worry, especially with the World Cup a few months away. Given that New Zealand are part of the VB series in January, Fleming will have plenty of opportunities to get back at the Aussies, in the knowledge that his side can compete. But unless the squad leaves the injury blues behind, and Bracewell gets some sense knocked into his head, those clashes could well demoralise the side in the lead up to the big tournament.