I got charged for a meteoroid shower
I got a glimpse of nature's power
As the weather sent a chill down my spine
I sat on my terrace, hearing the dog's whine
The neon signs poisoned the sky with the light
The stars tried shining, with all their might
There as that big one, at the end of our lane,
I felt like massacring it off, like I'd gone insane.
As I counted the stars, one two, three
I got a meteor gearing up for free
A large fire fly, swam through the sky
the swish..... sound it made, I saw it with my eye
I turned my head, towards the pole star,
It was just near the horizon, but a li'l too far
A thousand eyes looked on from the sky like a beast
It made me enjoy my weekend celestial feast
There was the Sirius, the brightest of 'em all
Orion looked like humpty dumpty, who had a great fall
I saw Pleides shine with poise
Sagittarius always playing with his toys
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Monday, February 18, 2008
LEAVE ME ALONE!
Leave me alone! it screams out.
LEAVE ME ALONE!
NO, Im not talking about the GTA vice city cheat code to keeps the cops off. It's about those juvenile teenage eyes that sparkle with coherence like a hundred stars in the pleides. A cluster of glowing, twinkling, dewy, wet stars amidst a pleasantlty inconvenient face.
"Leave me alone!" it pleads wiht utter helplessness. So utterly helpless, against the mighty yet insanely stupid satanic nuisances that torture its soul, invade its privacy: out of sheer momentery ecstasy, fuelled by grillions of seconds of persistent mental instability, that led to a drastic degradation of the humanly spirit that camouflaged the monster within.
The word "GOOD", being as alien to it as an i-pod is, to a neanderthal. A sort of a force, that conventionally reads the word "LIVE" as it's own palindrome.A force that acts as if in constant inebriation, a force, as content with all the evil in it, as young palestinian kids playing soccer on a wrecked warfront.
Unconscious.
The mere sight of the force; It's mere name describes complete sub-consciousness and extrordinary foolhardy.
It's opponent slowly, steadfastedly gains momentum.
Ignorance, though, IS bliss. After all, the proponents of this hypothesis weren't inexperienced!
The irritation is taken with silence. Fatal silence, it should seldom be referred to as. After all, silence is, they say, golden.
As pleasant, as golden, as those inexplicably - absorbingly - mindboggongly - gorgeous Irish ruralscape that sing about Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme.
The bitter struggle lingers on...
LEAVE ME ALONE!
NO, Im not talking about the GTA vice city cheat code to keeps the cops off. It's about those juvenile teenage eyes that sparkle with coherence like a hundred stars in the pleides. A cluster of glowing, twinkling, dewy, wet stars amidst a pleasantlty inconvenient face.
"Leave me alone!" it pleads wiht utter helplessness. So utterly helpless, against the mighty yet insanely stupid satanic nuisances that torture its soul, invade its privacy: out of sheer momentery ecstasy, fuelled by grillions of seconds of persistent mental instability, that led to a drastic degradation of the humanly spirit that camouflaged the monster within.
The word "GOOD", being as alien to it as an i-pod is, to a neanderthal. A sort of a force, that conventionally reads the word "LIVE" as it's own palindrome.A force that acts as if in constant inebriation, a force, as content with all the evil in it, as young palestinian kids playing soccer on a wrecked warfront.
Unconscious.
The mere sight of the force; It's mere name describes complete sub-consciousness and extrordinary foolhardy.
It's opponent slowly, steadfastedly gains momentum.
Ignorance, though, IS bliss. After all, the proponents of this hypothesis weren't inexperienced!
The irritation is taken with silence. Fatal silence, it should seldom be referred to as. After all, silence is, they say, golden.
As pleasant, as golden, as those inexplicably - absorbingly - mindboggongly - gorgeous Irish ruralscape that sing about Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme.
The bitter struggle lingers on...
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Return of the Carnatic
Midnight.
The time of the day when even the surya bulb sets. The time when gurkhas and Djs and Ten pointers rule the place. The time best suited to listen to some music! On this cold, "Extremely-bone-chilling" vellore christmas night, I shot a glance at one of my passions - Carnatic music.
Ah, That divine south indian soul, singing strange sanskrit verses...God, She ruled the world's carnatic scene with those two initials: Emm and Ess. It was a medieval classic, one of her best High-CD-stereo-quality recordings. The song progressed. Perfect frequencies everywhere. Any mistake would either mean that the recording was faulty, or that the robust semiconductor chip in my cellphone that houses few of the world's best trance compositions (Yes, The world's BEST!) is corrupt, or contains a virus.
The song progressed. I had always envied the African Djembe, but these trditional indian percussions that go along with carnatic music, especially, were so damn perfect, that with a little flange, they could be looped and mixed into any experimental-commercial-trance track! (Slightly conventionist, but yes !)
The song progressed. The vocal modulations came to an end. Now came the part where the three or four different percussions in the concert played a first-percussionist-initialized rhythm, adding their own "glamour and panache" to it.
I had originally been working on trance music production, which, is usually based on the most unique of the effects your creativity can acheive, to give your composition a feeling of "Trance".
Surround sound.
Precisely what the Idol-ically old, silent carnatic song suggested. Each of the instruments in the climax of the song, sounded as though the were being played from a different place, although, it wasn't all that "crystal-clear" for a novice listener to notice.
Whether the effect was accidental or on purpose, I do not know, but this concept of splitting a CARNATIC song into many channels and inducing surround-ity in them, I guess, will provide a better approach to popularising this ancient, stereotype-Indian, endangered (I better not say that!) form of music and also the newly emerging genre - "Carnatic-Trance".
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
April 18, 2007
Mr. Sun was mercilessly puncturing the earth's sanctity with his stupid rays. People found solace in the dark clouds that glided to and fro, making more of a harmonic motion.
I had the misfortune of having to pay the month's electricity bill. It was the last day and few hours hence, we had to pay a fine. Ten in the morning, I dressed up and cycled to the counter. The line was already half a kilometer long. It seemed like they were distributing free gold coins. The whole place reminded me of R.K.Narayan's Malgudi. I didn't know that so many people lived in my neighborhood!(Im always hooked up on the computer, tying to compose something...) So I joined the bandwagon. There were two lines, one for men, the other for women and the innumerous kids they brought along.
I stood amidst the cacophony of cellphones and kids and a radio screaming in a neighboring saloon. I watched people fiddling with their bills twisting here, folding there and inventing every possible way of killing time. Some pathetic old men seemed so tsunami-affected. Women were carrying on their usual profession: gossip. No one seemed to enjoy his wait, except for a few microbusinessmen who were busy with their cell phones kissing their ears. Some plugged in the earphones to have a midday fiesta. What interested me, was a moron old man, who was apparently on a mission to provide any kind of social service to those in needs. For one thing, he looked funny. He had White, curly locks of hair and had grown his beard to rival Abraham Lincoln. The funniest part: He wore a rain cap to cover his bald head. And there were the large spectacles he wore, which made him look strange.
Everyone looked at him, when he talked to an old woman saying, "Have you taken the receipt? Is everything fine at home? Where do you stay?" I was fiddling with my cycle key. He walked towards me. Thankfully, he went to the man behind me. Now, here I was, ten days before a major screening test, listening to some idiot man on the road giving someone else a sermon.
Soon he donned the role of "Malgudi's talkative man". He gave a pellucid account of his wonderful days in office. I heard that he worked in some company which imported things for other countries and did something else with them …He wasn't clear, you know…… On the day he had finished working for 3 months, His boss had complimented on his intelligence. He was soon promoted to a higher post. Along with his promotion, he said, came his arrogance. Soon, he was shouting at people, I mean the tender guys or whatever they call them. He had to visit Rajasthan for some major issue. The old man had protested, but finally was forced to go to a commissioner in Rajasthan on an official visit. He swore at his boss. Everyone turned around.
I looked at the line. I had crossed two pit stops or two pillars and 9 people were ahead of me. I was the tenth guy. The Line was moving slower than a snail but faster than India's Fast RTC buses. I felt like writing a suicide note and giving it to that man. But I held on.
The old man was now speaking of a security guard in Rajasthan. He described him. I felt the sudden urge to urge him to write a novel, which, I was sure would win a Man booker. He would probably be christened as a writer/activist. The guard, he said, was so persistent in not allowing him to meet the commissioner. He was dismissed saying, "Sir is having lunch" and sometimes saying, "Sir is having tea" or "sir is with some clients" et al. The old man waited. Two and a half hours and he hadn't spoken a word to the guard. Now, he lost his patience. He went to the guard for one last time demanded permit. Then, it seems, he yelled at the guard. The whole place shook as he repeated the very words he had spoken, eons ago, to some incredible guard in far-off Rajasthan. The nasty, Hindi sentence he uttered was more an eye turner than the advertisers promise their bikes to be. He broke open the door and spoke to the commissioner. Said he to the commissioner – "I have been waiting far two ouvers. Why is youver guard not allowing me? Does he want tip? If he want tip, I will give tip, But why all this?" Then began a saga of how he discussed the matter with some higher official.
Two persons to go. There was the sudden overcrowding of people at the counter.
He had written about 'The Issue' to the defense minister- No, Home minister- or maybe both of them (who knows??). He paused. He slid before me to the counter. I didn't protest. If I did, He would probably compose another raucous parody on me. The lady in the counter had suddenly moved on to the ladies. A precious gift of time for him to continue. He spoke about how he gave the order to some German firm and got some time saved. God! Pity the Germans! He paid his bill. It looked like Homer, Shakespeare, Vyasa and Valmiki and Kalidasa had just completed reciting all their complete works. He took the receipt and began to read it right away. I managed to spill the words 'excuse me' out of my mouth. He turned around, viewed me frantically and moved over to the side muttering something.
If he were a cute little football, I tell you,
You would Have known me as "The guy Who Outplayed Pele ".
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Oersted, Busted !!
A text states that Hans Christian Oersted, in 1820 AD accidentally observed that Magnetic Field is produced by a current carrying conductor. The story goes by the fact that Oersted was actually demonstrating something to a class, when he saw a magnetic compass needle, placed nearby, go astray when current was passed through the wire. The point is, the discovery was ‘Accidental’.
It was actually an Italian jurist, Gian Domenico Romagnosi, who had observed this phenomenon in 1802 AD and published his observations in a local newspaper. This, however, went unnoticed by the scientific community. And now, the credit goes to Hans Christian Oersted.
In 2007 AD, I first learnt that a straight current carrying conductor produces a magnetic field around its axis in a circular way. So, when we place iron filings on a cardboard shelf and allow current through a conductor placed perpendicular to it, BINGO! You have a crudely arranged circular pattern.
I decided to give it a try : After all it is a silly experiment, the result being obvious. I was only too interested in seeing if it is really going to work… So, I met my college’s lab instructor after working hours.
“Sir….”, I stammered. “I was thinking if I could perform an experiment….. It is not in syllabus anyway”. He viewed me frantically, thought for a moment and made a promising face. I was fortunate, he felicitated the idea. So, I told him about the experiment.
Soon, I had the equipment arranged on an optical bench (sounds cool, doesn’t it?). The apparatus included a Rheostat, a battery with variable voltages, few Manganin wires (because he couldn’t find insulated copper ones).
A circuit was soon ready. We didn’t have iron filings. So, a compass was brought (fortunately), because it deflects even for slight current amplitudes. I pecked a hole on a cardboard sheet torn off from they Physics Lab Manual, A compilation of foolish questions usually asked for the Viva-Voce. It wasn’t needed at that time, because any student picked up at random from the class could furnish you with every word from the book except for things as intricate as the ISBN Code (Wonder if it has one…).
And so, I held the cardboard and the compass, parallel to the bench. My instructor held the naked wire, turned the voltage knob to a whopping 12 Volts and toggled the switch. More voltage, more current, we thought. I was checking for deflections. when my instructor withdrew his hand suddenly. The wire he held had got heated up. He had burnt his fingers.This , as we hypothesised, was due the manganin wire we used.So, soon, a new circuit was prepared with copper wires. We checked for deflections again, desperately. This time too, it was a failure. We were cracking our head as to what had gone wrong.We had forgotten to closed the switch.
Soon , there was a burning aroma.It was first presumed that someone was cooking in the adjacent apartment. Checking the circuit, I turned the Rheostat topsy-turvy only to find a Red-Hot wire! Current, was switched off, chaos was arrested.We couldn't grok where the experiment had gone wrong.We even tried changing the circuit here and there,but it made No significant yield. When all our hopes were jettisoned, we abandoned the experiment there.
The deflections were accidentally discovered, almost 205 years before, in an era where only the spelling of electricity and magnetism were firmly established. I even wonder if they had commercially made Rheostats and batteries and insulated wire.
In fact, Michael Faraday wrapped pieces of his wife’s petticoats around copper wires to insulate them because amenities such as insulated cables were not available them. But here, even with such decently good equipments, we are at a loss, even to detect current, let along trace the magnetic field lines around them. Either the text quoting that the discovery was ‘Accidental’ is controversial or physics labs in certain colleges, (where the practical examiner is taken out of the hall for break-fast and the students are provided with sheets torn off from the manual to copy) need better equipment. I wonder If Oersted's discovery , in a college demonstration, was really 'Accidental'.Guess , It needs to be changed...
It was actually an Italian jurist, Gian Domenico Romagnosi, who had observed this phenomenon in 1802 AD and published his observations in a local newspaper. This, however, went unnoticed by the scientific community. And now, the credit goes to Hans Christian Oersted.
In 2007 AD, I first learnt that a straight current carrying conductor produces a magnetic field around its axis in a circular way. So, when we place iron filings on a cardboard shelf and allow current through a conductor placed perpendicular to it, BINGO! You have a crudely arranged circular pattern.
I decided to give it a try : After all it is a silly experiment, the result being obvious. I was only too interested in seeing if it is really going to work… So, I met my college’s lab instructor after working hours.
“Sir….”, I stammered. “I was thinking if I could perform an experiment….. It is not in syllabus anyway”. He viewed me frantically, thought for a moment and made a promising face. I was fortunate, he felicitated the idea. So, I told him about the experiment.
Soon, I had the equipment arranged on an optical bench (sounds cool, doesn’t it?). The apparatus included a Rheostat, a battery with variable voltages, few Manganin wires (because he couldn’t find insulated copper ones).
A circuit was soon ready. We didn’t have iron filings. So, a compass was brought (fortunately), because it deflects even for slight current amplitudes. I pecked a hole on a cardboard sheet torn off from they Physics Lab Manual, A compilation of foolish questions usually asked for the Viva-Voce. It wasn’t needed at that time, because any student picked up at random from the class could furnish you with every word from the book except for things as intricate as the ISBN Code (Wonder if it has one…).
And so, I held the cardboard and the compass, parallel to the bench. My instructor held the naked wire, turned the voltage knob to a whopping 12 Volts and toggled the switch. More voltage, more current, we thought. I was checking for deflections. when my instructor withdrew his hand suddenly. The wire he held had got heated up. He had burnt his fingers.This , as we hypothesised, was due the manganin wire we used.So, soon, a new circuit was prepared with copper wires. We checked for deflections again, desperately. This time too, it was a failure. We were cracking our head as to what had gone wrong.We had forgotten to closed the switch.
Soon , there was a burning aroma.It was first presumed that someone was cooking in the adjacent apartment. Checking the circuit, I turned the Rheostat topsy-turvy only to find a Red-Hot wire! Current, was switched off, chaos was arrested.We couldn't grok where the experiment had gone wrong.We even tried changing the circuit here and there,but it made No significant yield. When all our hopes were jettisoned, we abandoned the experiment there.
The deflections were accidentally discovered, almost 205 years before, in an era where only the spelling of electricity and magnetism were firmly established. I even wonder if they had commercially made Rheostats and batteries and insulated wire.
In fact, Michael Faraday wrapped pieces of his wife’s petticoats around copper wires to insulate them because amenities such as insulated cables were not available them. But here, even with such decently good equipments, we are at a loss, even to detect current, let along trace the magnetic field lines around them. Either the text quoting that the discovery was ‘Accidental’ is controversial or physics labs in certain colleges, (where the practical examiner is taken out of the hall for break-fast and the students are provided with sheets torn off from the manual to copy) need better equipment. I wonder If Oersted's discovery , in a college demonstration, was really 'Accidental'.Guess , It needs to be changed...
Monday, February 12, 2007
GENOCIDE ?!!
In the makeshift concentration camp I’d created, I watched the genocide phenomenon: Awesome! The chamber was filled with d-trans-Allethrin. My eyes glowed with satanic fury as they writhed in pain. Some of them moved across the chamber at Schumacher’s pace, eventually ending with a perpetual sleep. There was the ubiquitous low frequency groan, the most bizarre death wish. However, some of them survived. The usual practice was that they were smashed to death, blood oozing out of their body, making a horrid sight. But no, that was a fad. The ones that survived twitched and turned and struggled for ‘breath’ in their last moments on the planet. They were to die a painful death, partly because, they were female, partly because they were Dracula’s living ‘descendants’, too addicted to inhuman stuff. Little did they know that their tormentor-in-chief, had less mercy and had invented a new form of torture to keep up his insanity.
The survivors’ legs are amputated. They are then left to their own fate. When they groan in pain, the only thing I could say was: “YOU DESERVE THIS”. No mercy for enemies. The Mahabharata suggests that two people necessarily with the same rank in the Army only could fight against each other. Of course, they were no match for me, but a sport as it is, for me, amuses me.
When the left is amputated (Sorry, No anesthesia), the leg twitches for a couple of seconds. The Amputee doesn’t shout immediately. After a couple of minutes, spins around, makes a groove : A perfect Disco Gesture : Then they manage to remain pathetic for sometime, making an insane buzz, folding their legs like the foetus in the womb, as though hibernating. I guess this gives them strength.
When the genocide-savvy tormentor is off for a coffee-break, they wriggle themselves to freedom, escape Osiris’s Clutches. When His Majesty returns, the unlucky ones are hunted down, this time their heads smashed to the floor. The carcasses are sometimes strewn across the mortuary, sometimes fed to the lizards. When the obese lizards have completed their meal and Burp! Yuck! Insanity!!!!!
S Harshavardhan
The Tormentor-in-Chief
The survivors’ legs are amputated. They are then left to their own fate. When they groan in pain, the only thing I could say was: “YOU DESERVE THIS”. No mercy for enemies. The Mahabharata suggests that two people necessarily with the same rank in the Army only could fight against each other. Of course, they were no match for me, but a sport as it is, for me, amuses me.
When the left is amputated (Sorry, No anesthesia), the leg twitches for a couple of seconds. The Amputee doesn’t shout immediately. After a couple of minutes, spins around, makes a groove : A perfect Disco Gesture : Then they manage to remain pathetic for sometime, making an insane buzz, folding their legs like the foetus in the womb, as though hibernating. I guess this gives them strength.
When the genocide-savvy tormentor is off for a coffee-break, they wriggle themselves to freedom, escape Osiris’s Clutches. When His Majesty returns, the unlucky ones are hunted down, this time their heads smashed to the floor. The carcasses are sometimes strewn across the mortuary, sometimes fed to the lizards. When the obese lizards have completed their meal and Burp! Yuck! Insanity!!!!!
S Harshavardhan
The Tormentor-in-Chief
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)