думать.simple

Feminist women are dumb!

2008-11-19T18:38:00.002Z

Because :

1) First and foremost, they aren't really bothered about real issues regarding the welfare of real women, like domestic abuse and harrasment in the workplace etc. etc.
2) They like to believe that men who praise women for in general being more kind-hearted are all chauvinistic, mysoginistic pigs who love patronizing women. Essentially, praising them is an act of breach of their right to equality under Act 101 of the feminist agenda : Stereotypification of Women
3) They hate men who tell them that they are not kind-hearted. Essentially, this falls under Act 102 : Hate all men because they all are racist sexist and opressive asses and there is nothing that men can say to you that doesn't either fall under Act 101 or Act 102.
4) They are against feminity. They want to do everything that men do ! (lesbians are kindly excused) . Raising children is something that is the worst, most horrendous form of physical oppression they see many other voiceless women put through everyday. So is doing anything for the family. Amazingly, they don't realise how this is really just accepting the superiority of all that men have been typically doing and degrading all that they have been typically doing and how this fallacy stands as the very basic premise for their feminist agenda.
5) They still like to use their x-factor when it comes to pleasing bosses. Oh, and they think that this is essentially a typical example of all the struggle they have to endure in their arduous pursuit of the top spot in the corporate ladder. Aint that dandy.
6) They hate size 2 blonde girls with blues eyes because we love them. And they also hate it because its the most obvious breach of Act 101.
7) They are overly conscious of people breaking Act 101.
8) They hate porn. Thats Act 103.

Oh, and if I have missed a few points, please do take the time to add your grievances in the comments section.

But before you do, I want to clear up a few things -

1) This is a sincere post.
2) My apologies to real women working for real causes, and also to women who have risen above the above petty ways of "excericising" their feminist views. I am sure you find many of these radical feminists ignorant as well.
3) I am not against women following their dreams or standing up for their rights or working or even becoming promscious sluts.
4) I can see why some feminists would hate porn, because of all the shit that can be seen floating around on the internet which does actually show women in very very poor light. Something, I myself cannot stand, and find sickening to the core.
5) I really do believe that this feminst funda is just a fashion statement for young girls, who really don't understand the responsibility they have towards women who are actually suffering and whom people of any gender ( transvestites included) should stand up for.
6) You can pay the bills. Trust me.
7) Do ye smell sour grapes? I testify. But that doesn't alter the argument.
8) Check this link out -

http://www.riehlworldview.com/carnivorous_conservative/2007/08/do-some-radical.html

It says something about this feminist mother who caught her son seeing porn on the internet and blogged this -

"(I) hate myself for not pouring him down the sink at Planned Parenthood or grabbing a rusty coathanger and doing the job myself even if it killed me."

I've had him read Dworkin, my site, and other places (namely OAG's site) and I still can't unseat this problem. He can recite feminist literature all day long, he can understand the tenets, the ideas behind it, how it links together but he will not allow this knowledge to stand in the way of his porn use.

"I know, that as soon as my child leaves my home and moves into his own place that he will be looking at porn immediately. I know that I am raising a problem for women. I know that this child will one day grow and will fully absorb the messages that porn sends to men. I know that my child masturbates to degradation of my people (when I use that phrase I mean womyn) and that with every orgasm he will further solidify his own hatred of and superiority over, women.

"I know that there will likely come a day where my son coerces a young woman into sex (rape) and there isn't a damned thing I can do about it. I look into the eyes of my son and they still sparkle like they did when he was a baby, but he's not a baby anymore, he's growing into a man and that man will have trained himself to degrade women before he leaves my home."

As sad as that is, thats not the end of it. When in casual conversation with a feminist, I told her about the above woman who almost thought of killing herself because she was giving birth to a son, I was casually told "lol, thats ok, she was probably just being honest"

!!!!

Purple Haze

2008-08-19T09:50:00.000+01:00

.

Eyes, suggestively innocent, yet stunningly wide,
the darkness and depth of another world inside,
Forming and turning, unaware of any peril,
A plethora of emotions unraveling at will.

Let your hair flow, wherever it wishes to go,
Leading me all over the silk route and back,
Imaginations of the wildest strongest sort,
Temptation all too strong for now to evade.

Passionate is your touch, I can imagine,
All through your fingers let your love slip,
Don't hold it too tight, or your bosom may burst,
Let me love every bit of you that you deserve.

Over drinks one too many, I saw you sitting nearby,
sipping quietly, staring at me maybe?
Freudian projection or blissful imagination,
whatever it is that tempts, I want to give in.

And I cannot believe, as you come sit next to me,
and all the emotions of never before,
come unfurling in convulsive stupor,
rattling my senses, shards of words escape.

And you smile, ever so gently as if all is fine,
and you sip your sip and look back at me,
expectantly maybe, and I stammer,
and you chuckle inexplicably and so do I.

And how I sway absorbed,
by every little gesture that your eyes conjure up,
A sea of change lies before me,
and I want to drown myself into the waiting hands you extend.

And the agony now of the every inch afar,
is now piling on the listlessness that pervades,
But the music alas broke the listlessness of the night,
as purple haze drifted inexorably into sight.

Purple haze, like the breastwork that separates,
a plunge into oblivion from the life I live,
like the plunge into your mind but where are you ?
the purple haze is whirlpooling me away from you.

Where are you? I gather myself, to look around,
the bartender knows you not, nor the man who sat alongside,
where are you, my love of the night?
Have you just disappeared into the purple haze that clouds my life?

Are you like every other, or is every other just the same?
Is there no other like some other or was love never mine?
The purple haze that surrounds my life,
maybe its this purple haze that I fear.

Kartiek Agarwal

.

The Beginning of Something Beautiful

2008-11-12T19:59:00.000Z

.

Time was weeping for me. I felt blissfully calm though, as if floating in space, looking nowhere, seeing nowhere, dreaming nothing. There were people around me, but I could not bring to focus any one of their bodies, or comprehend what they wanted to say, or how they felt and where they touched. But their touch, it felt warm, and a little sweaty, too sweaty, as if they were deluging out of their palms, or maybe it was me. For a moment, I wished they would move away, and let me be. But then, in a moment of clarity, my dreamy existence transformed into transfigured reality. Blood was evacuating my body in a desperate and almost thankless lunge into the world, leaving me behind, dying. And my breathing suddenly became distinctly erratic, and my heart was pounding into my chest, while my lungs seemed to be caving in on themselves, still gasping for every last breath of air they could endear. Noise from all corners met my ears, but the heart thumping in my veins soon drowned every other sound. And then, it suddenly all went quiet again. I must have been sedated. I felt nothing.

But my eyes still gnawed at every little bit of the world that they could. I must be dying. I felt relaxed though, maybe, for once in my life. The power of nothingness seemed overwhelming seductive. I seemed to be spiraling into non-existence and it made sense. A slightly tragic end, for a man like me, one would say though, to die in a motor accident. Rather boring. No melodrama, no surrendered devotion from loved ones, no time really to do things or make a bucket list. Cancer, would have been better. And this was a tragic end for a man who was nice, for I didn't really feel like I deserved to die, no, not so soon, not now atleast. I had loved the only one woman of my life, loved everyone around me, friends, and family. Honest man, honest worker, honest person. Its funny when a doctor is dying. Not really, no, nothing special. I was just being poetic in the last few moments of my life. Maybe the sedatives were working. Damn, I was just electrocuted. Fuck you, you bastards, let me die!

And I felt myself lifting. Damn, again. Once again, I relapsed into consciousness. People grappled with their hair for a moment in utter delight or disbelief it was hard to discern and an almost sadistic urge of letting them down one last time got hold of me. I was trying to die. But, I wondered if it was really in my control. Of course it was! It was my brain, my heart, my life. But their lives were somehow integrated into mine. And my life was integrated into theirs. Like a tumor perhaps, or maybe a fungi on to a lichen, a sort of symbiotic relationship. I felt sad. I didn't wish to die now. I had to live. And while my heart asked for another pounding of high voltage electrification, I felt my brain giving up. Fuzziness predominated. Figures distorted. Thoughts distorted. A diaspora of emotions hit me simultaneously. I died. I lifted. I was very conscious of my death. I saw the people I loved. They were crying, agonizing, mourning, I could still feel their pain. I felt remorseful, and weakened by my own selfishness of wishing to die, and I felt remorseful, for I was still connected to their lives. Maybe I still hadn't died. I lifted further, I was in the air. Vacuum was now engulfing entirety. Every sight and sound was being siphoned out from the pulp of my existence.

The blur of cosmic colors like a constipating television set, a random number generator churning out coloration that made no sense now swarmed my vision. I had vision. It was a new beginning. A new world. Perhaps life, if this was life, would be calm now, like the prophets said while I lumbered through my life on earth. I felt hopeful. Yes, I seemed to be drifting. Unaware, of all bodily existence. My thoughts still wandered and drifted about this maze aimlessly. My vision seemed to have now acclimatized to this new way of life. I saw black. Seemed comforting. Better than a random number generator minimally. And I seemed to be growing again. I felt growth. I felt my body. I could feel numbness, in what surrounded me, but I could feel. Was this rebirth? I let that question pass for the time being.

I was in a room now. My vision had fully restored. This room was like a cave. The walls seemed irregular, porous, and lifeforms seemed to have carved a niche for themselves in the porous lime formation whose porosity seemed to have formed very much like the porosity in cakes I had had in my lifetime on earth. Almost funnily, the room seemed to be shrinking in volume while maintaining a sense of symmetry. Even the gods seemed to love symmetry. But it wasn't really funny anymore. I wished I was shrinking too. I had to, but no physiological or physical response however, seemed willing to ensure my existence. While my body was now concretising into a solid formulation, panic seemed to be engulfing a dawning sense of reality proposed by the walls closing in on me. I then noticed, it was an ellipsoid. The cave was an ellipsoid. An egg? Was this some sort of intermediate process that led to my re-birth? Meaningfulness that transcended my existence on earth, that was universal, an egg symbolizing re-birth? No, the question seemed to answer itself allegorically when the wall underneath started to give way to sharp blades, blades of reality, really sharp blades actually, like that of a chopper. I leaned on the walls of this ellipsoidal cavity I was in, grabbing at them, trying to hurl myself to the highest, safest, vantage point, but I was cycling back to the where I was. And underneath me, spun the blades of reality like portals to another world. I was being tortured.

The blades were now spinning faster than ever. But, I was safe for now. I seemed to have evaded them, evaded them for eternity. I had grabbed hold of something on the wall, and I was hanging in the balance, in a bit of discomfort, but well away from the blades. The walls seemed to have stopped closing in. My mind seemed to settle into a rhythm, and then into a sense of stationariness like that of a triggered waveform. I laughed, albeit sheepishly. A little fear encroached upon my musings time and again. There was alot to think about. I had still not quite obliviated the thoughts of my family. I wondered for a while. There was so much to think about. I felt excited, and I looked down to check once more at how the blades revolved aimlessly, awaiting my return to the fray like hungry beasts salivating at their prey. But when I looked down I was staring into a hole, a large hole, a void, an abyss, so deep that nothingness seemed on the end of it, and the blades started to revolve even faster. I hanged in the balance. The little protuberance that manifested itself on the wall and on which I hung myself now seemed to have taken an avid interest in my condition and seemed to be growing out to make life a bit more comfortable for me, or so it seemed. It grew like a finger aimed straight at my navel or genetalia, I couldn't be sure. But there was no time for speculation. And I wrenched and squirmed into a petrified-hedgehog-like pose to avoid the impending sectomy of whatever body I had grown again. And in exhaustion, I let go of the little protuberance from where I had initially grabbed it, and I and squatted my legs around the little cup-holder that had been formed by the protuberance fingering into the wall once more, right between my legs. And I felt my body spin around by my own inertia around the lower arm of the cup-holder, between my legs, and I hanged once again, but this time, by my legs. And my hair danced out to meet the abyss. And some got chopped like coriander in a electronic grater by the blades of reality while I serendipitously found a moment of calm to admire this Klein bottle of a cave.

Blood was now gushing into my head, and my pulse was throbbing. Was I being born? Was I being exterminated from a mother, my mother, her womb? This puzzle too, seemed to unravel itself rather immediately as if some higher force was being kind by answering all my queries. I saw people. No, not people. Just faces. No, not just faces, faces of people who had died before me in my lifetime. They were laughing at me, mocking me? No, there was a sense of sincerity in their laughter. They were being tortured too. Convulsions were beating through my head like a locust storm searching for cornfields in New Mexico. They were still laughing. I was being tortured. I tried laughing too. I laughed. And I saw the hole closing up again. And the walls started to again close in. The blades started to rise. I felt pain. Pain got redefined. I laughed, and I cried a bit. So did the other folks.

.

Silence

2009-03-13T08:01:00.000Z

The windows opened their arms out wide,
as the soft lulling winds sang, soothingly,
the squirrels, they ran, in undulating bounds,
and the rain, it poured, as if in testimonial harmony.

And the mind, it sat, waiting to be stirred alive,
and while without protest, thoughts danced away,
embroidering the imaginations of an escapist tide,
to no avail, for the silence had yet the will to prevail,
and uncertainty and uneasiness, marauded earnestly,
shrouded, by a veil of hope, fulsomely mislaid,
on the irresistible prospect of silencing the silence,
and in rhythmic progressions it climaxed, hurtfully.

I looked outside, as the pondering began to hurt,
the men, snatching up little good talks,
the tide of time, the girls playing by the riverside,
disharmonious was I, for even the rain fell not silently

Queer uncertainties of silence and of time,
uneventfully they pass by, mitigating expectations,
taming desires, strangling the hope, left yet if any,
dangling on optimism and lies, self-placatory ,
dousing hurtfully, the soul of my mind, ruing lost passions,
ruing the time, lost in time, like the ruing Sibyl
eternally awaiting the end, to no end, and knowing not,
which is which and why is why, this end of silence.

The sun then shone, out amidst the pouring rain,

the burgeoning clouds, and their thunderous refrain,

The sun is sweet, it is commanding, it bathes you in a light,

that you yearn for, from the people around you.

But there is pleasure in misery I felt, as it straggled my brain,

a peep into the mire of my conscious existence, repudiating the pain,

suddenly, as if advocated, justified by the absurdity, of it all,

and insignificance of it all in the transitory lives of a fungae culture,

residing on some chemical scum spewed across the heavens.

But no, I couldn't stray, for there was something special,

about the silence that pervaded, something more than denial,

something more than sadness, something that felt like hope.

And there is a certain solace I can feel, I realised,

sitting on this bench, alone with time,

in a moment in time, that the vagrant hippie,

who has travelled much, knows not of.

A song for campers

2009-03-13T06:02:00.000Z

I still can remember,
from the rosy bottomless well,
the colours of the rainbow,
how in the rain they swelled.

And the mellow yellow marshmellows,
tempering away,
in the forest firewe made,

burning hay.

And the light of the skyline,
against the cloudy moon,
the breeze of the time line,
it took us all the way past june.

And the fireflies, they scintillated,
in the evening that they created,
and the petals poured out,
of the night flower as it sung,
smug in its bed,
comfortably numb.

And The morning dew that wet the soil,

and the worms we squashed,

counting the miles,

The songs she sang,

and the love that smelt,

of fresh air and grassy reserves.

Federer... poetry in motion...

2007-07-08T19:33:00.000+01:00

I was elated today to see Federer win his 5h consecutive Wimbeldon title and equal Bjorn Borg's record. At one point of the match, you really felt that clearly Nadal was playing a perfect game, maybe even outplaying himself; his passes all hitting the lines on crosscourts, forehands down the line, and even volleys of all sorts.

I was clearly biased towards Federer winning the match. But right in the last set, it just seemed to be falling apart and I felt that Federer's demise was near. I have never liked Nadal, for reasons I myself dont know, and I was beginning to get frustrated. Right in the 5th set, after Nadal came close to breaking Federer twice and just missing out, I decided to respect quality and be happy in seeing the better player win. And I prayed to god, telling him that I just wanted to see the two give it their best shot and to see the best man win. And, I think I got what I wanted.

The new hawk-eye system implemented in the tournament was a real pain in the behind. Is it so accurate that it can even ascertain the balls landing correct to a millimeter accuracy? I understand that it just retraces the trajectory of the ball caught by the camera, but does it take into account the deformation of the ball when it hits the ground? And is a ball in, even if it is just a millimeter in? All in all, I dont think it worked well for the game, and the whole system was a disaster. I really hope they scrape the thing next time.

Being away from home, I really felt the desire to be watching the game with my parents, especially my mother, who herself is very emotional when it comes to sports. After leaving home after 2 months, the good old times of watching tennis and cricket together were really working my mind throughout the match, especially seeeing Federer lose control of the match time and again. I just hope Federer gets a coach again, he needs it not for the game only, but for emotional support as well. I wish him well nonetheless.

My First Posting... This will give a taste of my creative prowess...

2007-02-13T20:00:00.000Z

Indian hockey, coming back from the dumps...

2007-06-28T17:28:00.000+01:00

I have been extrememly satisfied with the performances the Indian team has put in after former player Joaquim Carvalho has taken over the responsibilities of the Indian team coach. I think he has really united the team again into one cohesive unit and his mantra of agrressive running and quick hockey seems to be paying off. With a 3rd place finish in the Sultan Azlan Shah tournament in Malaysia recently , and now some decent performances against Belgium and Argentina although the latter was a defeat in the Champions Challenge, we look to be covering back some lost ground.

Suddenly, it doesnt feel like we are caught up in David and Goliath style encouters. Our hockey is now aggressive. One key development is the approach to win more penalty corners which is very satisfying. This is an approach adopted by the many european nations and has worked satisfactorily for them time and again. Although, a penalty corner specialist, is really required to complete our puzzle. I see a champion penalty corner specialist in Len Ayyappa who has repeatedly performed well in PHL and being one of the top scorers, deserved a berth in the national unit, which quite unfairly got lost to politics as usual.

This is also a time, when the Indian media should become more proactive in supporting the developments in Indian hockey by giving it the attention it deserves. So far, as usual, they have been sluggish, and have shown their ignorance and incompetence to really do anything good for the country; which is something we have come to expect of our media over the years. Ahh well... lets hope repeated good performances will finally pull the attention of the media.

Liverpool : A False Dawn?

2007-06-06T12:25:00.000+01:00

Just like last post-season summer passed away with loads of speculations and transfer rumours but no end-product, it seems that these summers are also passing by. Although its just been 6 days into the 3 month long transfer season, its been difficult lately to keep up the spirits. While Gerrard and Carragher re-signings have given a boost to the moral, it was very much expected and what really can help is a top target being signed. Agreed, the Spanish season is yet to end, and our primary targets lie in Spain, but the low-key being kept at Anfield is a little disturbing.

One huge problem that I think in the Liverpool side now is the defensive central midfield. Many-a-times we find oursleves only able to lob a high pass directly to Kuyt who chests it down for Gerrard, who hasnt been in very good form this season or we have have wingers taking the ball into the corner and the ball into the center is a poor one, or Kuyt misses. We need to give our strikers better scoring chances if we want them to score.

Anyway, like everybody, I have an opinion on who should be signed and so I’ll list down my choices that I believe will bring a revolution at Anfield.

Daniel Alves(16m)- The signing of this player is a must, if we even want to think about being Premiership winners side next season. He is a quality right back and right winger who has time and again shown his quality playing with Sevilla.

Motren Gamst Pedersen( 9m) - Quality left winger and cheapest of all. Great volley technique and heading ability; gets into positions and does the job, and also sends in good quality crosses; Premiership proven.

Simao Sabrosa(10m/Cisse exchange)- Good Quality, can play on both sides on the field. Would fit in perfectly in Rafa's plans.

Diego Ribas De Cunha(dont know!)- Voted best player in the Bundesliga season 06-07, he looks to be a great attacking midfielder.

Lukas Podolski (18m)- I think he would be a better solution to a striking option than Eto’o and would play well alongside Kuyt.

Gabriel Milito (10m)- To strengthen our defense when it seems to fail. Setpieces have been a problem throughout the season.

This is roughly about 80m pounds. Together with the summer clearout of Bellmay, Cisse, Zenden , Gonzalez, Fowler, of 20m pounds, we would spending a net amount of 60 million pounds. This will surely see us giving a major Premiership title challenge to ManU and Chelshit. (If you’re wondering why I didn’t write manure, its an old thing.)

And for gods’ sake, Rafa, will you quit goofing around and give players to settle down rather then rotating every weekend.

Please comment on what ur summer buys would be in the comments page.

Techkriti...

2007-03-02T08:03:00.000Z

Midsem breaks are on, well technically from tommorrow, but I am already out of Kanpur. Tommorrow, hopefully I will be united/empowered with my lappie. But anyways, this blog is on Techkriti, the IITK tech fest. So I will continue with my report on the event.

After spending countless hours meticulously measuring wires and tapering them on to that breadboard, working hoursssss... on developing nice logic, I swear that I am the godsent messiah blessed with inbuilt wire cutting mechanisms and soldering abiltities. Ok... on a non-sadistic note...., I really experienced frustration and very precisely agony. And yes, that was the sadistic side of me again . This was not due to just the breadboarding and some sleepless nights, but because of the very fact that my team members were nowhere to be seen when I needed their help.

And now, finally , after all , I feel that it was all loads of fun and more than that, I learnt that theory and practice dont always go hand in hand. I mean you could probably describe them as two old firends meeting after a long time and one says I know you and the other refuses. Even if that wasnt really the best analogy, I hope you got what I meant. Anyways, so I came third. That was sort of a dissapointment although the contest was open to all colleges. We lost not because of our logic, but because our presentation wasnt the best.
Hmmm... WHY??

The Indian Media...

2007-06-26T19:50:00.000+01:00

Very frankly, in one sentence, the indian media is one of the most corrupt and irresponsible organisations in the already very corrupt framework of our country; that relishes on funds form politicians; has an extreme obsession with romanticising and talking about local murders and thefts; calling religious pundits to perform rituals on various occassions; discussing average everyday saas-bahu sagas; loves people who disrepute the media and even those who praise it because in the end, the viewers dont really mind a few opinions, and finally represents the pseudo-secularist cosmos that stems form governmental policies that ofocurse fund them to brainwash our minds.

Or in precise words of my alter ego... a fucking pain in the ass.

Take for instance, the recent issue of one Mrs. Sunita Williams, an American astronaut of Indian origin, an American thoroughbred with an Indian father and a Slovakian mother. The media has been going bonkers over her arrival back to earth, citing her as the Indian pride, calling pundits to do puja for her safe arrival, such a farce. All this, to make some viewing time, and disregarding the fact that it is undoubtedly wrong to make India take credits for she has done when she hasnt even smelt this Indian earth. Kalpana Chawla, was truely a product of India, and made us proud.

Also, this media runs along the lines of our government that has taken an unprecedented taste for the old English ways of divide and rule to keep the vote bank. This nation is burning in caste issues. Not only that, there is a pseudo-secularist angle to this formula. Anything said in favour of a Hindu that is the majority of the population is being communalist, and that said to support a minority is precisely termed secular. Politicians asking for muslim vote is not an issue. But, if they even dare to ask for Hindu vote, its an act that defies the secular nature of the country; pseudo -secularism at its best.

Comments welcome, thats all for now.

Hmmm... finally there!

2007-03-27T08:08:00.000+01:00

So finally, the day is here, and I am 18. Although there is some inconsistency in this, which is based on the fact that I am still 19 and a half hours approximately form reaching that magical age. Well, if that really mattered, and I was so fussed up, I would rather take into account even the months spent in my mother's tummy.

All that aside, today was a very different birthday; away from my parents for the first time. Away from the cradle that I was being brought up in. I am reading the birthday card my parents' sent me, and I am beginning to realise that now is totally a diffenrent period of my life. I am finally an adult, I can be voted for ( yeah, well thats just a little out of the usual ' I can vote' funda) but more or less my equations in life have transformed incredibly the past year.

Even if this might seem too philosophical, I would want you to understand the enormity in our daily lives of the following few lines.
For the first time in my life, have I experienced such a society of people (yes, in IIT Kanpur), who judge people on the basis of their academic prowess, who disrespect the simplicity in science as much as they appreciate its complexity which they cannot dare reach; who ridicule people on their intelect and who like to maintain a gung-ho image (yes, that's what was repeatedly coming into my mind) and dwell in the upper strata of the social hierarchy here on the basis of their "superior knowledge". If you are starting to feel, that I might be having an inferiority complex, let me gaurantee you that I dont becuase I completely believe that the force is within me (however funny that might seem), and so will people tell you who know me well. What I do believe in is "simplicity of philosophy". You could say that simplicity in itself is a subset of this larger set. The point is, where is the simplicity in thought, in relationships, in social image, that Einstien and Newton so beautifully demonstarted when developing the Theory of Relativity and the Principal of gravitation in this society? These people who do not believe in simplicity are simply amateurish philosophers and scientists.

On a lighter note, this was a very interesting birthday, simply becuase I blew candles after, what, 13 years. Hopefully, this year is going to be a very interesting year, and for all the right reasons. I look forward to spending these summers and I have charted a few areas of interest that I would like to pay attention to in these very exciting summers just a month away.

1) Thermodynamics & Relativity
2) Non Linear Optics
3) Visual C++, Windows programming, assembly language programming, hacking for fun
4) Guitaring

And ofcourse, these are not in any preferential order.

Is that a Trojan... really??? Awesome!

2007-03-02T09:36:00.000Z

The title might suggest that I am extremely desirous to create a Trojan and its absolutely right. I wanna hack you! Wait, no.. thats not why I wanna do it. Its because of the educational benefits, isnt it? What the heck, I still wanna hack you.

But, wait, before that I need to learn the abc of hacking. Just recently, I attended this lecture by a guy called Ankit Fadia, who wrote a bestseller at the age of 14, The Unethical Guide to ethical Hacking.. or so it goes, and I got all inspired.

So, I know that I have a criminal mind, so thats one step forward! Good, and I know some good C++. So all I need is some MFC/VC++ and a detailed knowledge of the working of the XP system and maybe, I can do this. COME ON!!!

In a Very Zeppelin Sorta Mood...

2007-05-28T08:00:00.000+01:00

Been in a very horny mood these days. You know, the sort of things you'd expect of a devilish mind like mine tangled up in an ever complex world; finding new ways to appease my singularity, only to discover that it is tending to plummet in the essential singularity zone. Einstein's wormholes look to me as the only way out of this rigid framework of mind but the statisticians will tell you that probabiltiy seems once every lifetime of the universe's history (thanks to our dear friend Quantum Mechanics).

Anyway, if you thought all that was gibberish, which, yes, I candidly agree to, then you would agree that I needed a break from physics for a while. And I did take a break. Dont worry, I had prepared well to face the summer heat. My arsenal includes some 25 gigs of music on my laptop, and also some classic movies.

And in this mood with nothing better to do, and no one at home , I decided to..... Dont think further. I decided to crank up the volumes and return to that Led Zeppelin mode. And I suddenly realised that I will do what I always wanted to do, collect some of my favourite Led Zeppelin song quotes and publish. So here it goes.... (album wise) ....
Some of these wont seem much, but they do when u hear them in the intoxicating voice of Plant.

Led Zeppelin I ( 1969)

You Shook Me -
" I have a bird that whistles and I have birds that sing. - X2
I have a baby, won't do nothing ...oh, buy a diamond ring."
well I hope you know what he means..... I cant help but just laughing

Dazed And Confused -

" You hurt and abuse tellin' all of your lies.
Run around sweet baby, Lord how they hypnotize. "

" Every day I work so hard, bringin' home my hard earned pay
Try to love you baby, but you push me away."

and btw., how can we forget those wild sounds that Plant makes to match his voice with Jimmy's guitar!

Led Zeppelin II (1969)

What Is And What Should Never Be -
" And if I say to you tomorrow. Take my hand, child, come with me.
It's to a castle I will take you, where what's to be, they say will be."
" And if you say to me tomorrow, oh what fun it all would be.
Then what's to stop us, pretty baby. But What Is And What Should Never Be."
"So if you wake up with the sunrise, and all your dreams are still as new,
And happiness is what you need so bad, girl, the answer lies with you."

" do do do, bop bop a do-oh, my my my my my my yeah."

Thank You -
" If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you.
When mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me."
although it wont be unfair to say that the whole song is a lyrical marvel...

Heartbreaker -
" People talkin' all around 'bout the way you left me flat,
I don't care what the people say, I know where their jive is at.
One thing I do have on my mind, if you can clarify please do,
It's the way you call me by another guy's name when I try to make love to you."

Whole Lotta Love -
" Gonna Give You Every **** of my love "
just wanted to avoid that **** for some reasons (and its not fuck for fuck's sake)

Led Zeppelin III (1970)

Friends -
" Bright light almost blinding, black night still there shining,
I can't stop, keep on climbing, looking for what I knew.

Had a friend, she once told me, "You got love, you ain't lonely,"
Now she's gone and left me only looking for what I knew.

Mmm, I'm telling you now, The greatest thing you ever can do now,
Is trade a smile with someone who's blue now, It's very easy just...

Met a man on the roadside crying, without a friend, there's no denying,
You're incomplete, they'll be no finding looking for what you knew.

So anytime somebody needs you, don't let them down, although it grieves you,
Some day you'll need someone like they do, looking for what you knew. "

this song is just very close to me...

Tangerine -
" Thinking how it used to be, Does she still remember times like these?
To think of us again? And I do......................... "

I cant really tell you how poerful these lines are....
btw, if your thinking what "tangerine" is, its a sweet orange that peels very easy and its characteristic colour is also called "tangerine"... eg... "You are looking beatiful in that tangerine gown.." and yes, I'll encourage you to think further this time.

Thats The Way -
" I don't know how I'm gonna tell you, I can't play with you no more,"

" And yesterday I saw you kissing tiny flowers,
But all that lives is born to die.
And so I say to you that nothing really matters,
And all you do is stand and cry."

again... I know you can feel the lyrics...

Untitled (1971)

Black Dog -
" Hey, hey, mama, said the way you move, gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove.
Oh, oh, child, way you shake that thing, gonna make you burn, gonna make you sting.
Hey, hey, baby, when you walk that way, watch your honey drip, can't keep away.

*Ah yeah, ah yeah, ah, ah, ah. Ah yeah, ah yeah, ah, ah, ah. " (this one line is the chorus!)

" I gotta roll, can't stand still, got a flame in my heart, can't get my fill.
Eyes that shine burning red, dreams of you all through my head. "

Going To California -
" Ride a white mare in the footsteps of dawn
Tryin' to find a woman who's never, never, never been born.
Standing on a hill in my mountain of dreams,
Telling myself it's not as hard, hard, hard as it seems. "

Stairway To Heaven -
" If there's a bustle in your hedgerow, don't be alarmed now,
It's just a spring clean for the May Queen
Yes, there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run
There's still time to change the road you're on. "
this one for reasons you may never understand....

Houses Of The Holy (1973)

The Rain Song -
" Talk Talk - I've felt the coldness of my winter
I never thought it would ever go. I cursed the gloom that set upon us...
But I know that I love you so "

Over The Hills And Far Away -
" Hey lady--you got the love I need
Maybe more than enough.
Oh Darling... walk a while with me
You've got so much... (lolz... yeah! point well taken!)

Many have I loved - Many times been bitten
Many times I've gazed along the open road.

Many times I've lied - Many times I've listened
Many times I've wondered how much there is to know.

Many dreams come true and some have silver linings
I live for my dream and a pocketful of gold. "

apart from the lyrics, this song is one of Page's greatest composititons as a guitarist

Dancing Days -
" I said it's alright. You know it's alright - I guess it's all in my heart

You'll be my only, my one and only. Is that the way it should start?

Crazy ways are evident, In the way that you're wearing your clothes
Sippin' booze is precedent as the evening starts to glow. "

The Ocean -
" Sitting round singing songs 'til the night turns into day
Used to sing on the mountains but the mountains washed away
Now I'm singing all my songs to the girl who won my heart
She is only three years old and it's a real fine way to start. "
oh this one is a really fun song... u can feel it in his voice

Yup, guys, thats all that I have and I like.... I hope you enjoyed reading this stuff... because I put alot of effort into this post, and more than that.... I think its not hard to appreaciate art.

P.S.
Listening to No Quarter while cycling along in the night on a lonely street, the sensation is on you cannot describe...

And She's Buying a Stairway To Heaven...

2007-03-30T11:33:00.000+01:00

The past few days I have been quite depressed with the developments on the "cultural" front in my life. Initially I was selected to sing a song, Creed's "My Sacrifice" on the Hall Day, the day where your hostel celebrates the feeling of togetherness of its memebers and commemorates the 4th year guys about to pass out who sometime in their lives contributed to the hostel. All that is fine, and I was finally feeling like I had got an opportunity to express my "other side".

The song was going well... till a senior comes and changes the song, and my part ends there becuase, now I am frankly disinterested.

By the wasy, if you read the original post, which explained a lot more, I postively am sorry for what I had written early. That was all written in a fit of anger and .. just forget about it.

So, very frankly, I am most dissapointed with these developments. And so, I turn back to that age old song of hope, that guides me when my chips are down , to be reimmersed in the feeling of musical liberation of body, mind and soul, to experience what only faithfully can be described as a musical orgasm. And She's buying a stairway to heaven....

The sheer exhuberance and passion in the voice of Robert Plant; the slow building up of the satirical tune that grows into the most wonderful of guitar climaxes, courtesy Jimmy Page; Stairway to Heaven is song like no other... just god-sent. Since the first time I heard this song in my 11th class, I have never had one day pass that I havent heard this song to accompany a bad day. It just lends that mystical impression of well-being, maybe Marijuana cannot even give ( Please Note, I do not testify the capcities of Marijuana, because I have no intentions of ever trying it. Its just those sort of things you have a hunch about, but you're sure you're absolutely right.

Continuing, I have also heard about all the rumours, suggesting it sends out satanic messages when you reverse play the song. I have testified, they are most certainly exceptionally clear and directive. It goes... " Hail the great Satan... he gives you 666.. Oh great Satan.. but he made up us work in his toolshed". And in forward play... it goes " There is still time to change the road you're on". If that isnt the most remarkable thing you've heard, what is? But, here, I want to clarify, that I strictly keep faith in Plant's statement that this is all fake, or simply an "American sorta thing to do". LOL... way to go, Jimmy!

At this point, I end this post with a photo with the lyrics... And She's buying a stairway to heaven....

Eggplant, Eggs, And Tomatoes :)

2008-03-18T18:11:00.001Z

Well, this is just a little post, about one of my favorite self-created dishes (one of the few ones that actually work out just fine :D). This one involves a very interesting combination of fried brinjal chips, spicy tomato chutney, and fried egg. You can do away with the egg, and the cheese as well. This picture shows a baked version of the dish. Although I found baking it results in squishify-ing the brinjal, but my mom liked it nonetheless. I think it makes for a very filling breakfast, and I really like it. Bon-a-petite :D

Sound Forge

2008-01-12T15:09:00.000Z

Well, its been quite a long long time since I wrote my last post. The last semester was probably one of the most hectic ones I have experienced in college life , although I have only completed 3 semesters here, so it would be more qualifying to say that the last sem was by far the most burdening sem. The TA201 course wasn't less than a nightmare! 2 labs a week doing metal-working, welding, and the occasionally getting hit in the groin with a sledge hammer, can wear down even the most accomplished and battle-hardened warriors. And I am only a science geek! :D Fortunately, the Signals and Systems course and the Data Structures and Algorithms course were a huge relief and provided for my intellectual appetite to some extent.

Now, getting back to the main theme of this post. I was actually inspired by this Rolling Stones magazine article to write this post - http://www.rollingstone.com/news/story/17777619/the_death_of_high_fidelity/print
But wait! I suggest you to stay here. That link is dangerous. No, ofcourse its not. But possibly because I can lend you some insight from a more mathematical perspective about what we are going to discuss.

Let me start by asking if you have ever wondered about or questioned the quality of the music being produced today. Since, we're all living in a world of mp3s and freely, albeit sometimes illegally distributed audio, most of us don't even recognize today's music to exist in the highly generically modified, monotonous, and well, overly loud state that it actually exists in! And no, I am not quibbering about the quality of musicians today because as long as the homosapiens sprawl in the bowers of this earth, extraordinary musicians will be born time and again , and will exhibit their sheer talent and we will all gather around and be wide eyed and hopeful and dream about wooing chicks with that type of musical talent. No, its actually the sound engineering that is to be blamed.

What is it that I am talking about? Well, its something like this. We all know how we like our music loud. It gives us a more exciting, dynamic experience, and most certainly a more environmental, immersive feeling when we get to hear the slightest of details; when the high pitch squealies of Dimebag hit us at full volume and when the bass pounds on every muscle of our body, yes its an incredible feeling. The music industry seems to have taken an extreme obsession in trying to capitalize on this loudness phenomenon and in my opinion, and many others' , this has led to a forever degrading quality of music.

Yes, Yes, you're to blame as well!

Music is characterized by variations in pitch, rhythm, timbre, and loudness. That's what makes music exciting. Its the dynamic range, the panache, the little fluctuations, the moods that are played around with by changing scales. But as of today, most records that are produced ,compromise on this dynamic range, to make everything seem louder. When you take out this dynamic range, the whole song seems to be running on the same loudness level, which may seem amazing in the first hearing, but tends to get monotonous after subsequent repeats. The chorus, the verses all seem to be at the same volume. If you take out this variation, the emotional punch of even the best climaxes is lost since its all at the same level! Its really funny how people are trying to buy more and more expensive sound systems, covering their room walls with limestone or clay and what not for a better acoustic experience when all they are really gearing up for is listening from loud, depth lacking, and less than deserving stored media.

Its not My Fault !!!

Lets have a little look into what really happens. When recorded sound files are compressed via mp3 compression algorithms which at modest best involve fourier domain filtering of the frequencies of sounds that tend to be least perceivable to human hearing. These frequencies may be the ones that are too high for human perception or too low, or the ones that occupy less energy in the spectrum. This doesnt seem so bad and actually it isnt. After all, its fine enough to remove stuff that we cant hear. Then who IS the culprit? Well, its the record labels whose sound engineers try to "deck up" the music. How do they do that? Well, in order to make everything louder, these people simply amplify the less voluminous sounds and well, since you can only amplify everything to a certain maximum, this tends to decrease the gap between the originally loud and quieter portions since the louder portions are left as they were! That sound bad to you? Yes, it is! Its a complete degradation of sound quality and certainly something that most of us dont enjoy. Some of us, know this, when they feel a conscious urge to skip a song, and some of us who are, well much brighter, actually skip over. :D

You can actually get a little feel of this yourself by trying out the following thing - Just go to your
Windows XP/ Vista volume control device and notch up the wave equalizer. Do this once, and then revert the change and this time notch up the volume. Next, notch up both. The both notched up version is what you get and you can see now easily see that you are being cheated!

Me! Pick Me ! :P

Some artists have realized this degradation of sound in stored media, and have consciously tried to avoid such sound engineering that tends to woo listeners in short term, but most have given in to this so called "loudness war". Here is a youtube video I found that, sums it all up quite well. DO have a look at it!

Well guys, me waiting for your comments!

David Deutsch : What is our place in the cosmos.

2007-09-02T13:05:00.001+01:00

In this rare (and delightfully engaging) public appearance, legendary physicist David Deutsch weaves a complex and captivating argument placing the study of physics at the center of our species' survival. Deutsch is author of The Fabric of Reality and the leading proponent of the multiverse intrepretation of quantum theory - the astounding idea that our universe is constantly spawning countless numbers of parallel worlds.

So much for the words by the officials of TED. In my words, I would say I completely second that. :)

Random pics from Amrikaa :D

2008-06-30T18:49:00.001+01:00

Wild America!

2008-06-11T00:26:00.000+01:00

Well, its been about a month now here in Pennsylvania, about a third of the way through my research internship under Dr. Lakhtakia at Penn State University. We have been trying to observe a [content suppressed for the time being :)]. With the physics part being mostly done, the numerical analysis remains, and this is what is causing a few hiccups here and there. Nonetheless, I had a wonderful day today at work, with my program finally finding some (loads really, its swinging now :) ) solutions to a deviously eluding multivariable complex function. Problem is that this non-explicit function is nowhere analytic, well not even continous or even defined at places. Hence, convergence programs fail most of the times. What I have tried to do though is to fill in these gaps to form atleast piecewise continous parts, helping me to run a Newton Rhapson algorithm in some form. I am also looking at using a zero crossing method that switches between real and imaginary parts till a simultaneous crossing is found. Nevertheless, this blog post is a tribute to the wildlife here in Pennsylvania so we should focus on that now! On my customary evening walks with my uncle here who is also a professor at Penn State University (and its so pleasant, occasionally mild downpour at about 25 degree centigrade) , we found that cute guy above trying to cross the road. For your information, there are 2 fresh water streamlets running on either side of the road!

As I watched it in its struggle to cross the road, a guy whisked past me in his, toyota was it ?,only to stop , wheel back, and park his car at the side, to have a look for himself. What I found more amusing was that, this guy, whose picture you can see above, decided to stand in the middle of the road for the next 15 minutes or so, so as to warn any cars of the threat they could be to the turtle! Realising this was taking just too long, he tried helping the turtle on by trying to poke at it and push it with his foot, but the turtle wagged its mouth at him in a loud hiss of self-defense to warn him off! Finally, the man gathered enough courage to pick the little beast off and drop him at the stream nearby :) . I was, ofcourse, content in watching the action unfold at a safe distance (yeah, you have to be saying, "this guy, scared of a turtle?") , oh and I had to run back to my place and back to the scene of action to get the camera in the meantime. About half a mile, so could have been about 4-5 minutes.

Yeaiii, look at my claws!!!

Well, for some things, you just got to love America. :)

Love, Death, Beauty, and Poetry.

2008-07-03T06:06:00.000+01:00

My words are all but lies,
released into the bewildering wild,
in opiate nights under
the sun-bathed moon with crimson wine
all that set to conspire,
setting my imagination on fire,
imploring me to oblige,
to ponder and to settle down, to retire.
To retire into the arms
of the chair besides my desk and write.

And I write about love,
and death and all in which I find beauty,
And I make a mockery of it all,
every night when I retire,
all that set to conspire,
setting my imagination on fire,
didn't ever realize my ineptness
to set alight the mind, the pyre,
that is in a way only a true lover
could ever aspire .. to.

And so I set to write nonetheless,
of the tempest, that is her soul,
that blows on the lands of evermore,
burning ever bright
like the christening jewel
of a crown in clear daylight,
But again I realize my ineptness
to set alight the mind, the pyre,
that is in a way only a true lover
could ever aspire .. to.

And so I surmise,
from the evident lack of device,
love, I have never realized.
I have never felt it, I could never write.
But yet again I set my ineptness aside,
and continue to scribble and write,
And I find poetry in the death of a flower,
caught in a tumultuous monsoon shower,
That pleads to the skies, and dies,
amongst remorseful eyes.

Eyes, that were never mine,
and it is beyond evident and I realize,
how fickle and unwise,
my words will seem to those eyes,
that belong to the mother of a lost son,
and an orphan of a lost mother,
a lover, his blessed soul,
that bloomed today with new found love, and further
I realize, these words, never writ better
than those on the lips of a bereaved lover.

Kartiek Agarwal

The Visit

2008-06-17T03:05:00.000+01:00

He was sat in his bucolic leather-back chair
shrouded by a haze of obliging, benignant air
not by virtue but possibly by the smoke,
that lingered with an aroma of pleasant hope.

As I entered the room, I remember, he shot a quick look,
Sizing me up from head onto the foot,
He couldn't make note of much so he started right away,
A seemingly harmless question, how was your day?

Reasonably well, I recall muttering out loud,
Not very interested in his persistent spout,
And as I continued to recline away to merriment,
It was not before long, the dialog wasn't reminiscent.

I now continued on a path of beleaguered ferns,
trudging along the trail of the redolent soil,
fresh from a showery spell of nature's love,
lit with the sunlight underlining the canopy above.

And I continued onwards, lured by a sense of nostalgia,
By, an inexplicable desire of seeking long lost love,
Until I reached a tree that separated from the rest,
In that it was home to two bluebirds warbling in their nest.

The father then came, a beautiful father he was,
a ring of green around the neck and hood of satin white.
As he continued feeding, his young his prized catch,
they kept chirping and warbling in their colloquial delight.

And the forest , like a utopia of uninterrupted bliss,
Sat back to admire this little relationship blooming amidst.
And then, rather serendipitously my eye wandered to a pond,
murky and shallow, it begged me to respond.

As I leaned over onto my reflection, it leaned back at me,
a gasp escaped my lips unconsoled by the sudden frenzy,
that surrounded me unrelentingly, getting ever frenetic,
It was my face alright, but the eyes were of a heretic.

And the forest was now its primordial self,
under a setting sun, with clouds bulging and giving away at will,
tormenting showers that muted the benevolent trill,
of the bluebirds that flew in search of cover, away from peril.

Throbbing guilt suddenly pounded in my veins,
delirious thoughts scrambled and reveled in my pain,
And I still didn't know why this dream of such promise,
Was now turning into an abject nightmare, an undeniable abyss.

And then, played a requiem that flooded into ubiquity,
And right before I realised, my father's body, I saw paralyzed,
lying in a crystalline coffin with red roses and orchid wines,
Just the way he wished to die, I could never realise, such a heretic was I.

And then, as I began to plead for mercy, begging freedom,
from this ethereal nightmare, this bestial prison,
A sudden impulse of energy ran through my forehead, like a concussion,
and every little nerve rejoiced in almost sudden gratification.

And I found myself now, suddenly very wide awake,
hugging my chair, behaving childishly innate,
Dr. Freud purposefully smiled , and sat me up straight,
"Well, you know my son, it's almost never too late ... ".

Kartiek Agarwal

Blissful Oblivion

2008-04-03T05:42:00.001+01:00

Blissful oblivion, surrender me to your illusion,
Let my mind awaken from my prejudiced slumber,
This body, breathing of agonizing inhibition,
Let me be, free for once in your eternal bower.

Ruffle my sails with your winds of purposelessness,
Filling in me, vague and distant memories unheard,
unrelated to what I know or will ever know,
And I will breathe in comfort I have never felt before.

Free from me, this whimsical sense of belonging,
Self-deluding importance to social harmonic being,
Whirlpooling, if needed into the realms of insanity,
to be questioned by none, the saner, of my happiness.

Let this unintuitive, unimaginative world of infiniteness,
as that seen through the eyes of lesser minds,
unrelenting to undermine their presupposed axioms,
present to me the light and glimpses into the
unknown, for there is where my mind resides.

Kartiek Agarwal, on behalf of a delusioned metaphysicist.

Just wanted to publish this poem..

2007-03-09T12:34:00.001Z

Ok... its a poem I wrote long back .. when I was in the 9th Class I think...

WHAT IS GOD........ An Introspection...

Why is our life confined to birth and death?
When we were to die, why were we born?
And mix in such epic proportion of bonds
with those who we love; to leave them to mourn
when we pass away; or get shredded and torn,
to see them fade away into the past, casting away
such gloomy spells of our life that however hard we try,
ebbing them away makes us strong but rather cry,
and seek for breath in the prolonged stifling wound,
and seek for breath in the prolonged stifling wound...

Does God not seem to realize, if He were so wise,
to be able to understand us, get us rid of our demise,
Is it something to do with our previous birth, our past,
the mistakes of our youth- do they still last...
engraved as our sins, threatening us, choking us ?
But isnt God forgiving? Isn't He always right?
Then why did he create us ? - rummage this earth,
steal from it, devour it, and................ ignite,
its woods, its animals, its birds and its soul and life
leaving it to burn; turning a deaf ear to its plight!

Hasn't He then committed a sin; it makes me sit up and think,
if He is actually anything more than a mortal;
and then suddenly, it all rushes into me,
travelling from one end to the other as if He,
has tried and succeeded in communicating with me,
And with this I continue to introspect and think -
If God has ever been more than a symbol of protection,
a figure of paramount hope, the gift of perspiration,
a key to all answers, but a puzzle in Himself,
a reason................. for all reasons.

Kartiek Agarwal (Yeah... and thats me)

Futile

2008-10-07T18:13:00.000+01:00

.

The forests are never unyielding,
light falls, rebuked by their feathers,
and some rays caress gently enough,
to be allowed passage undiminished.

Little green and white buds,
of fresh olive green turn darkened green,
bloom into the sunshine wide eyed,
pressing gently on the rays.

light is a sinful perpetrator ,
it impregnates lifelessness,
with life and, harmlessly it seems,
sobbing in ecstasy, spraying its pollen.

April is the cruelest month,
the fireflies maraud aimlessly,
earnest it seems is their endeavour,
their thoughts are never scuppered.

but time wilts all, age masks ignorance,
the tempest too plays it tide,
in the east where the sun shines,
nakedly flooding the earth with its pride.

The fire then, is burning, of unspoken,
resentment,and pervading solitude,
in the shade of the sun,
the leaves whither away in time.

Wilting in the sunlight,
bathing quietly, in agony they shine,
condemned to shine,
condemned to be desirous to shine.

Thoughtlessness is wished,
weren't only the virtue of the dead,
in yards strolled by wishfully in time,
answering questions unanswered.

Oh, the futility of it all,
as if it wasn't ever so obvious,
reminds of a little game we played,
looking at black stars in the sunlight.

Kartiek Agarwal

.