The God of Bald Things !

I am not sure whether the winters have suddenly become warmer here in Ahmedabad or if the impending release of Gajini has brought this catastrophic turnaround, but WIMWI suddenly looks to have found its new fad these days.

There was an era when ruffian hair and sideburns took the cake. Today the trend has reversed. There has been a sudden flurry of clean shaven craniums all around. I could buy it if one said before placements, i want my hair to regrow and look just perfect. I could also have bought it if one was aiming to beat the heat. But this is suddenly a mushrooming of the vogue.

I can count atleast 4 people in my section alone who have gone in for the Shaakal look, and probably double the number across the other sections too. Pray, explain, what the professor would feel when a triad of baldies are staring at him, sitting right next to each other. These days with the SBC presentations going on, it becomes difficult for the cameraman to record all the live videos with the light shining off the oiled convexes ! "It hurts the eye" is what i heard one of my classmates quipping to the guy next seat.

Now that you come to think about it, all these magnificient bald busts are so different amongst themselevs. Round, oval, egg shaped, close cropped, crystal clear, 'protrusions of a second kind' ! I am beginning to have mixed thoughts on the long hair that i am trying to grow and maintain. Is the fad really out? Or is is this just a passing phase. Are the damsels in distress stumped or 'bald' over ?

What i surely do know is that IIM-A's new hottest telecast that is topping the ratings, is a show called the "The Bald and the Beautiful". Lets see how much longer this show keeps up the steam.

Tabla Beat Science

While for most of us who continue to be mesmerized by the maestro Ustaad Zakir Husaain, it would be absolutely entertaining and a dash of sheer brilliance to listen to him performing with the other giants of the percussion world in a clash of the titans, giving to us some of the best world fusion music.

At times even the blogger fails to capture the music on paper. However a short note copied verbatim.

"Call it an aggregation of some of the best contemporary percussionists: Trilok Gurtu, Zakir Hussain, and Asian Underground star Talvin Singh combine under the sonic washes of producer Bill Laswell to show the possibilities of Indian percussion. It's definitely a beatfest, but one of subtlety, where what is being said isn't as important as the way it's being stated, and the dialogue between hands includes a lot of silences. Gurtu comes from a more jazz tradition, Hussein a classical background, and Singh represents the brash young things of the dance floor. Mostly Laswell leaves it to them to provide the sonic entertainment, which is as it should be with delicate swathes of sound barely intruding, just coloring the proceedings. While it's not for everyone, those who love Indian percussion in all its forms will find this album a complete joy."
--Chris Nickson

In moments like these i am helpless to comment on greatness well beyond my mortal humble self.
So here are a couple of videos that have just raised the bar of instrumental music for me and left me dumbstruck.

Video 1 : Palmistry by Tabla Beat Science




Video 2: Mengedenga by Tabla Beat Science

Toccata & Fugue

When one has had a long break away from writing, when one has turned rusty enough, when one has dried up the thoughts that made life worth enjoying, one often wonders what next to pen down. And often it is the next topic, that next incident, you wish was worth more interesting than the previous one and hence flies by a narrative that was never told, a vision unseen, a voice unheard. It is at times like these that one must find that spark to set things straight, set the wheel of joy into motion.

Strangely enough, for me it happened today. And from the most unexpected sources as well. Of all the weekends i have spent wasting or getting wasted here at wimwi, this one was quite a different experience. I spent almost the entire afternoon and evening listening to (rather more like watching) videos on YouTube. And i probably covered an entire gamut of instrumental music that my heart seem to have yearned for in ages.

It is rather surprising to find myself not falling to sleep listening first to all the jazz of the 40s and 50s and then moving onto my favorites - the string compositions. It was a day of pure ecstasy hearing violin renditions of Bach and Chopin sonatas performed by the Berlin Philharmonic and Vanessa Mae. Aah ! The sounds say it all - a feeling of pain, of pleasure, of joy, of sadness, of longing, of sorrow, of desires, of passion, of fear, of strange whispers ...

But the best probably had been saved for the last. Toccata and Fugue by Johann Sebastian Bach. A mix of haunting notes (remember Addams Family) followed by a high pitch energetic stretch of the chords - covering more than 3 octaves. The sheer pace of the beats, and yet the ever so subtle hand movements. It seems like magic out of thin air. Fresh, pleasant and infused with all the serenity one needs to calm one's mind. And to top it off, the duet between an electric guitar with distortions and a violin.

It just cant help one fall in love all over again. Poetry is good, and ballads even greater. But there is no describing the charm brought on by a piece of well rendered instrumental classic. Close your eyes, and the energy will surround your senses. It takes you to a plain so far away returning seems next to impossible. One simply wishes to stay there forever. All alone, all by oneself - with no soul to break the silence. Just sheer melodious aura and nothing more. Maybe a gentle breeze to carry you on.

I am nearing that state of Tabula Rasa I always wished for. In time i will. There is still a hard path ahead to make peace with my inner self. Till then, it seems like things are not so bad after all. There is still some hope out there - pure, innocent, untouched, uncorrupted, vibrant. Those old memories return. And another phase too shall pass, bringing us closer each day, with Toccata and Fugue and so many more like them to guide us through.

The WhACkiest Week Ever ...

Its been a rollicking fortnight here at WIMWI (Henceforth referred to as IIMA or only A, under the copyright act and citations rule provided by the Chicago guide lines and blah blah).

For those trying to figure out the content of the text above, don't bother. I know nothing of it either. That is the first step to a good report here at A. Know nothing till Friday evening 11pm. And by 12:30pm of the next Saturday, you can become a master at writing reports, providing recommendations and finalizing action plans that major company CEOs and VPs are still at a loss to do.

Welcome to the world of WAC - Written Analysis and Communication - a course taught only in A, and which, as the seniors (henceforth referred to as 'tucchhas') and profs both agree, is what makes us Rated-A.

After a warm welcome to the institute by the tucchhas, in a style that only the best 250 of the country can manage to pull off, the entire last week (or rather it was only just this last week that went by - time sure flies fast) has been a grind. From getting a flavor of "Maniac" (MANAC or Managerial Accounting - now re-christened as FRA or Financial Reporting and Accounting to prevent the use of Maniac) to absorbing Wordworth Poetry and Kabir Dohe in a single class of Statistics, I have realized why they call this place the Mecca.

The professors operate at a level their own. Eccentricity is the name of the game and cold calling is only a glance away. While i am sure to flunk FRA and Stats (i have already screwed my 1st quiz and messed up a 14 mark question out of 40) and Economics is all graphed out with demand curves, I seem to have found a glimmer of hope in Managerial Computing (MC) and a HR based course on Individual Dynamics (ID). Atleast two places i can use my core competencies - Excel reports and Global farts. MC however might be the only place on earth where one is required to write Excel functions in the exam rather than a practical based test.

Which leaves me with the most dreaded course on campus. I met a few alumni of the 1988 batch and they were still terrorized to learn that WAC yet existed. A subject that had made their lives miserable and would do so for 20 more batches to follow.

Now WAC is nothing but discussing a case in class - a group of 80 odd students - listening to them fight over trivialities of the case, providing their thoughts, view points, analysis, ideas, solutions. All we need to do is condense a 3 hour class room discussion into a 1000 word report, in the given style, format, header, footer, spacing, font etc etc. I mean how tough would it be to do that right?

Well for most of us it took up the entire of yesterday night. While I managed to doze off by 2:30am, some of the unfortunate ones managed to look at their beds only at 2:30pm today afternoon.

But the fun part is not as much making the report, as the time when we actually end up submitting it. For decades, there has been a ritual termed as the "WAC Run" that happens in the campus on the first submission Saturday of term 1. In those days of yore, when a single printer existed in the library, imagine the chaos when students were rushing to get prints of a 10 page report, all at the same time in the morning - late and dazed.

At this point in time, it was the seniors who used to be up before us, flogging the paths on both sides with cameras in hand, and snapping away at the lost souls who were dashing to submit the reports before the given deadline.

With technology now offering printers in each dorm (unfortunately half of which did not work today, and we had to visit other dorms), the Run has become more or less non-existent. But hats off to tucchhas of Dorm 10 who came up with innovative ideas to maintain the spirit of things. They had all reports confiscated from the fucchhas early morning, and gave them back only 8 minutes from time. A brisk walk from D10 to the class room would require 7minutes. I needn't say more, do I. The flurry, the rush, the tensed faces. Tucchhas in D14 went a step ahead and locked out the juniors in their own rooms till the last minutes. One of them got scarred enough and tried jumping balconies to get out.

All in all it was brilliant experience - especially when you are on the other side.
But once the surprise quizzes and report submissions were behind us, we had a sumptuous lunch and went out for a movie. Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na is an excellent Romantic Comedy, one of those types i liked watching after a long time and one which i recommend for a one time watch. Our drive to just chill out was so high that despite not getting tickets in the first hall, some of which were going as high as 400 buks (and this is not even in black), we tried our luck at another.

And if that was not enough, the dorm tucchhas treated us to a late night dinner with some Hyderabadi Biryani. When we did come back to the campus, there was a "Ramp" party going on to celebrate the first WAC submission. Yet again, the name originates from the dance party that used to happen near the Harvard Steps before we had an auditorium. Unfortunately when you have 300 'boys' dancing on the floor, it is not quite a dance party you want to be in.

So i decided to round off my day (and night) with an hour of the National Sport of Frisbee in the LKP lawns. The game is definitely hard and not easy to play. If ever the laws of motion dynamics and random entropy were to be tested, this was it. But none-the-less after a strenuous display (where i kept standing at one end of the field, playing the passing game), i just crashed out in my room - but not before writing all these memoirs down.

Surely and by far the Whackiest Week ever here at the Theater of Dreams !

Mea Maxima Culpa

Confíteor Deo omnipoténti et vobis, fratres

quia peccávi nimis

cogitatióne, verbo, ópere, et omissióne:

mea culpa, mea culpa, mea máxima culpa.

I confess to almighty God,

and to you, my brothers and sisters,

that I have sinned through my own fault,

in my thoughts and in my words,

in what I have done, and in what I have failed to do;

-- Confiteor, Mass of the Roman Catholic Church

I stand atop the tower of Babel. The air smells so pure. The wind in my face - icy, silken, subtle, strong! I look up at the sky so clear - untouched and serene. I look down at the teeming millions below - faces familiar, faces unknown.

And then i fall. For atonement - of thoughts so vile, leading to words accursed and actions that are doomed. But it is not a confession of deeds i indulge in, rather, i ask for forgiveness of those closest to me. Mea Maxima Culpa - my most grievous fault: Is probably my trust in those i hold most dear, most true, most faithful.

Left in tatters, ruined, soiled, torn apart - shattered is my faith, lost is my confidence. Strong i never was, steely i have now become. Weak i never felt, fragile now stands my mind. Too close i keep those i confide my deepest thoughts to. Narrow i have made my world - the paths that connect are constricted and dark. A new door i open in anticipation; an old door closes behind forever. Is there a way to negotiate this maze - to come out clean, sin ridden.

How does one preserve the sanctity of thoughts. Quis custodiet ipsos custodes? Who guards the guardians? For when such gloom befalls, it saps you off the positive energy. Vibes of negativity float all around. You become obscured from those around you. Grumpy, jittery, moody. A silhouette, a silent shroud.

It pains you to see your own prejudices and that of others. Sarcasm laced. A feeling of the world conspiring. Of people that manipulate your actions, of their sweet talks to weave you and bind you - the oh so common fly in a spider's web scenario. And yet, and yet. We fall prey. The trap shuts close. Engulfing you. And then you plot your ploy. Your escape and your vengence. It defiles the very action, the very emotion you fought against. You become what others around you were. What others around you are. What others around you will remain to be. You become what you fear most.

The hallowed one in me pleads with that little horned creature. Let it be. Move along. People come and people go. Let not their actions be our judge. Let not the deeds of one govern your deeds for the other. Good advice tells you not to go into a shell and shut yourself up like a clam. But I was always the devil in me. I prefer it that way though. In your world, with no one to hurt you. Always in reticence, stepping out only when required.

Aah! Mea maxima culpa, my most grievous sin. Believing in others as much as i believe in myself. Always trying to be good, trying to be docile, trying to be in harmony. Truth is, it doesn't work. The world is selfish and so must you be. Let that be a sin then if others feel so. At-least I stay true to my inner self. Of all things that matter, it is not a sin I would have to answer for.