===============================================
Today has been one of those handful of days I didn't stir out of home in Hyderabad.
Generally, I take at least a hundred meters walk for a cup of Tea to the eatery: "Top-Inn Hotel".
This name always reminds me of a "Drop-Inn" Eatery at Gole Bazaar which folded up in a couple of years; but while it was there the fare was apparently good: mostly NV: various paranthas; Mughalai, egg, chicken etc. Since I never liked the NV stuff, I was a spectator quark, drinking my Tea while my friends had their fill.
Not that I was too unwell today; yesterday, when it was worse, I walked uphill to post some Air Mail packets and DTDC couriers. Just that there was no incentive to stir fom bed: I happened to pick up an RKN thing and got absorbed.
Its title is: "A Story-Teller's World".
It is a compilation of 'pieces' many of which I read earlier; still.
The most delicious compilation of his 'pieces' remains: "Next Sunday". They are period pieces: the early 1950's under Nehru's Independent India, its birth-pangs and the funny side of it. Also my boyhood days at what everyone says was my Malgudi.
The opening page of today's book has this inscription: "from Kasturi Basu", 2nd February, '94.
That is Dola, DB's daughter. She must have been in her MA (English) at JU then.
It was a funny thing: Dola's mom holds an MA (English) from the same Univ, maybe.
DB used to claim that he was 'writing' her 'essays' as preparation for her exams: it so happened that he married her while she was a student; and as you know, marriage is a big diversion for a woman.
"Vivaham vidya nashanam; santanam sarvanashanam"
But when Dola entered her High School, she flatly refused to 'prepare' for JEE, a wise decision supported by her parents.
Her first love was English.
Somehow, by hook or crook I convinced DB that I know a little of this language; nothing like SDM's: his mastery of English was such that he could easily have been a professional writer if math wasn't his first love.
I learned how to write precise and concise scientific prose from SDM. I didn't learn much of his math though; that remains contraband in my family.
So, DB and his Mrs used to feed me at their place and after dinner, Dola used to come to me for a couple of questions in her English text.
And I used to gul as usual.
One thing I recall was that there was this: 'The Gift of the Magi' story by O Henry.
I somehow felt that the last para appeared like an afterthought. The short story would have been nice if it ended without its rather overt end-pontification.
I said so.
The next day, Dola went to the Tech Market book store and bought a compilation of O Henry's in which an earlier version left out the last para, with the title: "Gifts of Magi".
I guess there is some truth in the popular saying that excessive revision, particularly after many years, is better avoided.
Dola holds a prestigious Diploma in Journalism from The Hindu @ Madras.
It turns out that the building that houses this in the Mount Road (now Anna Salai) is called Kasturi Buildings, sort of Dola's namesake.
Legend has it that some irate journalist who was rejected by the original 'Kasturi' wrote a complaint to the Ministry that The Hindu employs 90% of its staff picked up from Tamilain Brahmins.
When the complaint was passed on to Kasturi, he replied: "There appears to be some mistake. ALL our employees are Tamilian Brahmins".
================================================
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Monday, August 9, 2010
Colden Nash
====================================================
Thanx to Varun for this delightful poem (I discovered that Nashsville is named for his ancestor):
Go hang yourself, you old M.D.!
You shall not sneer at me.
Pick up your hat and stethoscope,
Go wash your mouth with laundry soap;
I contemplate a joy exquisite
I'm not paying you for your visit.
I did not call you to be told
My malady is a common cold.
By pounding brow and swollen lip;
By fever's hot and scaly grip;
By those two red redundant eyes
That weep like woeful April skies;
By racking snuffle, snort, and sniff;
By handkerchief after handkerchief;
This cold you wave away as naught
Is the damnedest cold man ever caught!
Give ear, you scientific fossil!
Here is the genuine Cold Colossal;
The Cold of which researchers dream,
The Perfect Cold, the Cold Supreme.
This honored system humbly holds
The Super-cold to end all colds;
The Cold Crusading for Democracy;
The Führer of the Streptococcracy.
Bacilli swarm within my portals
Such as were ne'er conceived by mortals,
But bred by scientists wise and hoary
In some Olympic laboratory;
Bacteria as large as mice,
With feet of fire and heads of ice
Who never interrupt for slumber
Their stamping elephantine rumba.
A common cold, gadzooks, forsooth!
Ah, yes. And Lincoln was jostled by Booth;
Don Juan was a budding gallant,
And Shakespeare's plays show signs of talent;
The Arctic winter is fairly coolish,
And your diagnosis is fairly foolish.
Oh what a derision history holds
For the man who belittled the Cold of Colds!
Ogden Nash
Thanx to Varun for this delightful poem (I discovered that Nashsville is named for his ancestor):
Go hang yourself, you old M.D.!
You shall not sneer at me.
Pick up your hat and stethoscope,
Go wash your mouth with laundry soap;
I contemplate a joy exquisite
I'm not paying you for your visit.
I did not call you to be told
My malady is a common cold.
By pounding brow and swollen lip;
By fever's hot and scaly grip;
By those two red redundant eyes
That weep like woeful April skies;
By racking snuffle, snort, and sniff;
By handkerchief after handkerchief;
This cold you wave away as naught
Is the damnedest cold man ever caught!
Give ear, you scientific fossil!
Here is the genuine Cold Colossal;
The Cold of which researchers dream,
The Perfect Cold, the Cold Supreme.
This honored system humbly holds
The Super-cold to end all colds;
The Cold Crusading for Democracy;
The Führer of the Streptococcracy.
Bacilli swarm within my portals
Such as were ne'er conceived by mortals,
But bred by scientists wise and hoary
In some Olympic laboratory;
Bacteria as large as mice,
With feet of fire and heads of ice
Who never interrupt for slumber
Their stamping elephantine rumba.
A common cold, gadzooks, forsooth!
Ah, yes. And Lincoln was jostled by Booth;
Don Juan was a budding gallant,
And Shakespeare's plays show signs of talent;
The Arctic winter is fairly coolish,
And your diagnosis is fairly foolish.
Oh what a derision history holds
For the man who belittled the Cold of Colds!
Ogden Nash
No chicken this!
================================================
My travel plans got cancelled.
The culprit is what they call Chickungunya Fever.
First there was this fever. But I had always lived with fevers all my life. Combiflam takes car e of that.
But after a couple of days there is this sweet tingling of all joints asking sort of to count them. A day later the sweet thing becomes sour and then bitter.
Although it is all mechanics and lubrication, the lust for life sort of takes a back seat when the hip and knee joints refuse to do duty; particularly for a floor-siting-and-sleeping soul like me.
And as usual I ignored it thinking that they will ignore me and flee.
But it didn't happen.
So, my son canceled my tickets and drove me (literally) to the CARE(free) Hospital in Banjara Hills.
They made me sit for 2 hours waiting. I can tell you; hospital is s sick place.
Then they led me to an antechamber where the Assistants (Interns) sit. The guy there started asking me all sort of intimate questions like if I smoke, if I ever smoked or drank.
He then measured my height and weight (much like my tailor) and took my BP which was low as usual. And the thermometer showed normal since I took a couple of Combiflams before proceeding there.
He was unhappy and perhaps suspected I was a hypo.
To show that he did his work splendidly, he wrote against pulse: 84, while it was more like 48 (I have an athetic pulse: slow and throbbing).
Then he asked me to wait again. Finally the call came from the specialist in Internal Medicine (what is that agian?).
He was a young chap and asked me to to sit. I gave one of thosed disarming smiles of mine, which sort of embarrassed him and made him feel shy.
He kept his head down and wrote down several tests for blood and urine and asked me to get lost and asked my son to fetch the reports in the evening (without me).
I skip the lab details because they were manned by women and like Bertie one doesn't bandy the fair sex.
In the evening my son phoned me saying that all reports are normal and the doc said nothing can be done; it will go away by itself in another week.
That cost my son Rs 2000.
But IIT training being what it is, deadlines are met.
All packets of booklets have been posted; the ones in India by DTDC and the ones abroad by the good old AIR MAIL... look for the stamps, some are good-looking.
Bye for now!
=================================================
My travel plans got cancelled.
The culprit is what they call Chickungunya Fever.
First there was this fever. But I had always lived with fevers all my life. Combiflam takes car e of that.
But after a couple of days there is this sweet tingling of all joints asking sort of to count them. A day later the sweet thing becomes sour and then bitter.
Although it is all mechanics and lubrication, the lust for life sort of takes a back seat when the hip and knee joints refuse to do duty; particularly for a floor-siting-and-sleeping soul like me.
And as usual I ignored it thinking that they will ignore me and flee.
But it didn't happen.
So, my son canceled my tickets and drove me (literally) to the CARE(free) Hospital in Banjara Hills.
They made me sit for 2 hours waiting. I can tell you; hospital is s sick place.
Then they led me to an antechamber where the Assistants (Interns) sit. The guy there started asking me all sort of intimate questions like if I smoke, if I ever smoked or drank.
He then measured my height and weight (much like my tailor) and took my BP which was low as usual. And the thermometer showed normal since I took a couple of Combiflams before proceeding there.
He was unhappy and perhaps suspected I was a hypo.
To show that he did his work splendidly, he wrote against pulse: 84, while it was more like 48 (I have an athetic pulse: slow and throbbing).
Then he asked me to wait again. Finally the call came from the specialist in Internal Medicine (what is that agian?).
He was a young chap and asked me to to sit. I gave one of thosed disarming smiles of mine, which sort of embarrassed him and made him feel shy.
He kept his head down and wrote down several tests for blood and urine and asked me to get lost and asked my son to fetch the reports in the evening (without me).
I skip the lab details because they were manned by women and like Bertie one doesn't bandy the fair sex.
In the evening my son phoned me saying that all reports are normal and the doc said nothing can be done; it will go away by itself in another week.
That cost my son Rs 2000.
But IIT training being what it is, deadlines are met.
All packets of booklets have been posted; the ones in India by DTDC and the ones abroad by the good old AIR MAIL... look for the stamps, some are good-looking.
Bye for now!
=================================================
Friday, August 6, 2010
wellwishers.com
========================================================
Known well-wishers are passe'. It is the unknown, unseen, strange ones that fascinate me.
During the past 12 hours, I had received mails from 20 such Santa Claise.
Quite obviously it is impossible for me to respond individually to such a deluge of benefactors. So, this is just a thankful en masse gesture. I do badly need all your goodwill, so please keep it up.
Most of them want to pass on to me sums ranging from 1 million to 50 million dollars. Easy money. I am sure I am the only chosen one.
All they want from me as of now are intimate details like my age and sex. I can't guess why.
One of them is off-the-routine. She says that: "Deep Depression should not be confused with mere bad mood". This enchanting information is like taking coal to New Castle.
The others can be roughly grouped as follows with minor individual colorings:
1. Air or Road Accident deaths of wholesale families leaving unheard of millions of dollars in a Bank without a will or a nominee.
The Santa Claus in this transaction is the Chief Accountant or Manager of the concerned bank.
I always had a suspicion of these chaps. Tomorrow I am going to make a trip to my Bank and give the entire List of the dozen of my Degree Recipients as 'nominees' for my millions, in the order in which they occur in my Schindler's List posted on an earlier blog of mine.
I always thought that Hyderabad tops the Road accidents. But I find that Purkina Lasso in Africa wins hands down.
Hyderabad can still try.
2. Then there are those huge prizes my e-mail has won. This is just wonderful. I never knew that gps1943@yahoo.com is such a lucky thing. I thank my son for inventing this id for me.
These come in several varieties: National Lotteries of various countries like W. K. and also Southwestern Union Money Transfers.
Also bottling giants like Boka- Bola.
3. Then the absolutely novel schemes like well-known Hotel Chains asking me to apply for 'vacancies, vacancies, vacancies!!!!' in their works.
Apparently there is such a shortage of unskilled professionals in their countries that they had to ask me to apply.
The beauty is that there is no experience required. They will train me at their own expense before absorbing me with fantastic salaries, benefits, holiday and health incentives.
Again, all they want for now is my age and sex.
I guess I should bluff: Instead of writing 67 and M, I should write 17 and F.
Let me see.
4. The latest well-wisher is: 'Loan Sanction Scheme'.
These are willing to lend me anything upto a million dollars, without any guarantees, for personal purposes like home, car, refinance..you name it they have it.
And only at a pittance of 3% (Pavala Vaddi of YSR).
I can only wonder how they could figure out that my lifestyle is so dissolute.
5. This one takes the cake. It is from: 'Lo 5'.
They have been pestering me to join the site, citing various folks who are dying to befriend me.
Since I already have too many online friends I didn't bother.
But today they sent me half a dozen pictures of voluptuous dames in various enticing poses (I find that my mail server has unhappily blocked them all by the evening).
While I always want to peek at such things, they must know that it is like casting pearls before old swine.
Still, I appreciate their gesture.
More of the same thing please!
6. Lastly my own mail server keeps periodically advising that they are remodeling their entire site and threatening that if I don't at once submit my login and password my e-mail will become defunct.
That is precisely what I want now!!!
I am suffering from a very bad case of spondylitis due to inveterate mailing and blogging.
********************************************************************
P. S. The other day my net-connection at home conked off. So I visited the nearest cybercafe to check my mails.
Each cubicle is dark and dingy, I don't know why.
And the letters on all keyboards are completely erased by overuse. So, for a hunt-and-poke artist like me it can take anything like an hour to compose a small para.
And I found that the mouse was misbehaving. The cursor didn't follow the usual commands at all: it was going all over the place except where I wanted.
After a few minutes, I discovered that, in total darkness, I was holding the mouse by its head rather than its tail and asking it to perform.
Try it, it is great fun!
=====================================================
Known well-wishers are passe'. It is the unknown, unseen, strange ones that fascinate me.
During the past 12 hours, I had received mails from 20 such Santa Claise.
Quite obviously it is impossible for me to respond individually to such a deluge of benefactors. So, this is just a thankful en masse gesture. I do badly need all your goodwill, so please keep it up.
Most of them want to pass on to me sums ranging from 1 million to 50 million dollars. Easy money. I am sure I am the only chosen one.
All they want from me as of now are intimate details like my age and sex. I can't guess why.
One of them is off-the-routine. She says that: "Deep Depression should not be confused with mere bad mood". This enchanting information is like taking coal to New Castle.
The others can be roughly grouped as follows with minor individual colorings:
1. Air or Road Accident deaths of wholesale families leaving unheard of millions of dollars in a Bank without a will or a nominee.
The Santa Claus in this transaction is the Chief Accountant or Manager of the concerned bank.
I always had a suspicion of these chaps. Tomorrow I am going to make a trip to my Bank and give the entire List of the dozen of my Degree Recipients as 'nominees' for my millions, in the order in which they occur in my Schindler's List posted on an earlier blog of mine.
I always thought that Hyderabad tops the Road accidents. But I find that Purkina Lasso in Africa wins hands down.
Hyderabad can still try.
2. Then there are those huge prizes my e-mail has won. This is just wonderful. I never knew that gps1943@yahoo.com is such a lucky thing. I thank my son for inventing this id for me.
These come in several varieties: National Lotteries of various countries like W. K. and also Southwestern Union Money Transfers.
Also bottling giants like Boka- Bola.
3. Then the absolutely novel schemes like well-known Hotel Chains asking me to apply for 'vacancies, vacancies, vacancies!!!!' in their works.
Apparently there is such a shortage of unskilled professionals in their countries that they had to ask me to apply.
The beauty is that there is no experience required. They will train me at their own expense before absorbing me with fantastic salaries, benefits, holiday and health incentives.
Again, all they want for now is my age and sex.
I guess I should bluff: Instead of writing 67 and M, I should write 17 and F.
Let me see.
4. The latest well-wisher is: 'Loan Sanction Scheme'.
These are willing to lend me anything upto a million dollars, without any guarantees, for personal purposes like home, car, refinance..you name it they have it.
And only at a pittance of 3% (Pavala Vaddi of YSR).
I can only wonder how they could figure out that my lifestyle is so dissolute.
5. This one takes the cake. It is from: 'Lo 5'.
They have been pestering me to join the site, citing various folks who are dying to befriend me.
Since I already have too many online friends I didn't bother.
But today they sent me half a dozen pictures of voluptuous dames in various enticing poses (I find that my mail server has unhappily blocked them all by the evening).
While I always want to peek at such things, they must know that it is like casting pearls before old swine.
Still, I appreciate their gesture.
More of the same thing please!
6. Lastly my own mail server keeps periodically advising that they are remodeling their entire site and threatening that if I don't at once submit my login and password my e-mail will become defunct.
That is precisely what I want now!!!
I am suffering from a very bad case of spondylitis due to inveterate mailing and blogging.
********************************************************************
P. S. The other day my net-connection at home conked off. So I visited the nearest cybercafe to check my mails.
Each cubicle is dark and dingy, I don't know why.
And the letters on all keyboards are completely erased by overuse. So, for a hunt-and-poke artist like me it can take anything like an hour to compose a small para.
And I found that the mouse was misbehaving. The cursor didn't follow the usual commands at all: it was going all over the place except where I wanted.
After a few minutes, I discovered that, in total darkness, I was holding the mouse by its head rather than its tail and asking it to perform.
Try it, it is great fun!
=====================================================
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Reco Mela - 5
===============================================================
4. 1975 or so:
JK, a brilliant M Sc (Physics) pass-out from KGP left for the US.
After nearly 14 years (1989) he returned for a nostalgic trip (he came down again in 2005, just before I quit). He was a distant cousin of Mrs DB.
By 1989 he was already a tenured AP at a University in the US. He was sitting opposite me in my Office Room and we were chewing the cud.
TRR entered and stood at attention. He was my Project Student then.
During his 5 years at KGP, I rarely saw TRR smile; far too serious and studious. He was by far the topper of their batch; maybe holds some records to be shattered even now.
As usual, he sat through my 2 semesters in his 4th year (EMT & QMII). And I sat through his 2 labs, Autumn and Spring. So, enough scope for close interaction. I tried to make him smile since I was the usual buffoon wanting to spread sweetness and light.
Once in his final year, he was discussing some point in his project, which was on the Spacetime Software of EFT. And it was time fo his next lecture class, which was just opposite my Office C-239. And I saw his Senior Prof and HoD (a stickler for 'propriety') enter their class room. I told TRR to rush to his lecture class and we can talk later.
But he coolly said the lecture can wait.
After our discussion was through, he was about 5 minutes late and, with trepidation I was watching him go across,. He stood at the entrance and must have uttered: "May I come in, sir!". And perhaps there was no reply. So, after a couple of minutes, he put a step forward and stood beside the open door and kept standing for the whole hour, till the HoD quit without even bothering to look at him.
That was TRR.
So, when TRR entered my room with a bunch of reco forms, I introduced him to JK.
And asked JK: "Tell me JK! Does anyone out there ever read all the poetry I write (and perhaps wrote for him too 14 years back)?"
JK gave a smile, and a wee head-shake, and said: "I was a member of our Departmental Admissions Committee this year. 4 of us were sitting and gabbing. When the agenda topic came, we all agreed that, since the year before last we took a Chinese, and last year an Indian, this time let us take that Vietnamese girl".
For the first time I saw a broad smile on TRR's face.
And I recall that happily even today!
As I said, he went to the University of Southern California, Los Angeles, and perhaps broke some records there too!
[Aside: Richard de Souza, the final year NA student was the promising 100 meter sprint athlete at KGP around 1966.
His Departmental HoD, 'Daddy' Mitra (with a British wife) was the Deputy Director and a fan of Richard, his final year student.
As the events were progressing, there was this phone call from 'Daddy' to Jaswant Singh, the mike-in-charge of the events.
'Daddy' was online and was asking him: "Has Richard broken the Record yet?"
Jaswant, shouting over the ongoing 100 meter sprint: "He is just breaking it, sir!"]
*****************************************************************************
5. Fast forward to 1995: The Class of 96 on which I posted an entire blog and thereby met Shajesh online after so many years.
The dreamy topper Sougato entered my room with a Reco Form, which he said was somewhat urgent.
By then my procedure was standardized. In the matrix, I would say to the student: "Choose 2 of your weaker points and then I would check them in the second column: Very Good. The rest 6 I would check in the first column: Excellent".
No student till now volunteered any answer. So, I would help them out saying 'Spoken English' and 'Lab skills' could be the second column and the rest the first column.
They would naturally agree, and the 'checking' part over, I attach the 'boiler plate' poetry with minor changes suggested by the student to take care of the specifics of the Univ.
So, the job was through in 5 minutes, with me gabbing all the time (Aniket rightly calls me 'chatter box').
Signing and sealing and signing over the sealing and all that routine took another 5 minutes and we were through.
Sougato left happily with the sealed envelope ready to be posted.
That afternoon, Anupam, my very wonderful Project student (he did all the formidable metrics from Kerr, from ABS, onwards without my asking or help), entered with the same Reco Form to the same University.
And the same chatter box thing, the same 'checking' and poetry were going on.
Suddenly, Anupam burst out: "What have you done, sir?"
I said : "What is the matter?"
"In this form, sir, 'Excellent' is the LAST column and the 'Very Good' is the last but one column".
I jumped up and sent him at once to Sougato's place asking him NOT to post his form which he 'supervised' while I was filling up.
Meanwhile I was praying to my Personal God (ok. OK!!!),.
Both came smiling after half an hour, Sougato shamefaced, luckily too lazy to have posted it. (My 'In Praise of Laziness' got printed last October by The Statesman 'Now & Again' along with two subsequent ones before we parted company).
Then two more empties were fished out, the old envelopes torn into shreds, and two new ones filled in under Anupam's careful scrutiny, sealed and returned.
Both got Admission and Fellowship.
But neither joined; happily going to better places.
Serves the screwy University right!
=================================================
4. 1975 or so:
JK, a brilliant M Sc (Physics) pass-out from KGP left for the US.
After nearly 14 years (1989) he returned for a nostalgic trip (he came down again in 2005, just before I quit). He was a distant cousin of Mrs DB.
By 1989 he was already a tenured AP at a University in the US. He was sitting opposite me in my Office Room and we were chewing the cud.
TRR entered and stood at attention. He was my Project Student then.
During his 5 years at KGP, I rarely saw TRR smile; far too serious and studious. He was by far the topper of their batch; maybe holds some records to be shattered even now.
As usual, he sat through my 2 semesters in his 4th year (EMT & QMII). And I sat through his 2 labs, Autumn and Spring. So, enough scope for close interaction. I tried to make him smile since I was the usual buffoon wanting to spread sweetness and light.
Once in his final year, he was discussing some point in his project, which was on the Spacetime Software of EFT. And it was time fo his next lecture class, which was just opposite my Office C-239. And I saw his Senior Prof and HoD (a stickler for 'propriety') enter their class room. I told TRR to rush to his lecture class and we can talk later.
But he coolly said the lecture can wait.
After our discussion was through, he was about 5 minutes late and, with trepidation I was watching him go across,. He stood at the entrance and must have uttered: "May I come in, sir!". And perhaps there was no reply. So, after a couple of minutes, he put a step forward and stood beside the open door and kept standing for the whole hour, till the HoD quit without even bothering to look at him.
That was TRR.
So, when TRR entered my room with a bunch of reco forms, I introduced him to JK.
And asked JK: "Tell me JK! Does anyone out there ever read all the poetry I write (and perhaps wrote for him too 14 years back)?"
JK gave a smile, and a wee head-shake, and said: "I was a member of our Departmental Admissions Committee this year. 4 of us were sitting and gabbing. When the agenda topic came, we all agreed that, since the year before last we took a Chinese, and last year an Indian, this time let us take that Vietnamese girl".
For the first time I saw a broad smile on TRR's face.
And I recall that happily even today!
As I said, he went to the University of Southern California, Los Angeles, and perhaps broke some records there too!
[Aside: Richard de Souza, the final year NA student was the promising 100 meter sprint athlete at KGP around 1966.
His Departmental HoD, 'Daddy' Mitra (with a British wife) was the Deputy Director and a fan of Richard, his final year student.
As the events were progressing, there was this phone call from 'Daddy' to Jaswant Singh, the mike-in-charge of the events.
'Daddy' was online and was asking him: "Has Richard broken the Record yet?"
Jaswant, shouting over the ongoing 100 meter sprint: "He is just breaking it, sir!"]
*****************************************************************************
5. Fast forward to 1995: The Class of 96 on which I posted an entire blog and thereby met Shajesh online after so many years.
The dreamy topper Sougato entered my room with a Reco Form, which he said was somewhat urgent.
By then my procedure was standardized. In the matrix, I would say to the student: "Choose 2 of your weaker points and then I would check them in the second column: Very Good. The rest 6 I would check in the first column: Excellent".
No student till now volunteered any answer. So, I would help them out saying 'Spoken English' and 'Lab skills' could be the second column and the rest the first column.
They would naturally agree, and the 'checking' part over, I attach the 'boiler plate' poetry with minor changes suggested by the student to take care of the specifics of the Univ.
So, the job was through in 5 minutes, with me gabbing all the time (Aniket rightly calls me 'chatter box').
Signing and sealing and signing over the sealing and all that routine took another 5 minutes and we were through.
Sougato left happily with the sealed envelope ready to be posted.
That afternoon, Anupam, my very wonderful Project student (he did all the formidable metrics from Kerr, from ABS, onwards without my asking or help), entered with the same Reco Form to the same University.
And the same chatter box thing, the same 'checking' and poetry were going on.
Suddenly, Anupam burst out: "What have you done, sir?"
I said : "What is the matter?"
"In this form, sir, 'Excellent' is the LAST column and the 'Very Good' is the last but one column".
I jumped up and sent him at once to Sougato's place asking him NOT to post his form which he 'supervised' while I was filling up.
Meanwhile I was praying to my Personal God (ok. OK!!!),.
Both came smiling after half an hour, Sougato shamefaced, luckily too lazy to have posted it. (My 'In Praise of Laziness' got printed last October by The Statesman 'Now & Again' along with two subsequent ones before we parted company).
Then two more empties were fished out, the old envelopes torn into shreds, and two new ones filled in under Anupam's careful scrutiny, sealed and returned.
Both got Admission and Fellowship.
But neither joined; happily going to better places.
Serves the screwy University right!
=================================================
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Last Call & Feedback
Proofs of the booklet are in, and have been corrected just now. Copies will be delivered by this weekend. Mailing will be on coming Monday.
Then on, I will be out of
Interested Degree recipients (not 'piece of Diploma', DQ!), kindly rush your mailing addresses prompto.
As I wrote earlier, the Contents of the booklet titled: "Granpa's Tall Tales" are free from Physics, except the one piece: Spin; Physics being my Business while Stories are my Pleasure [I think I repeated several times one of Sam Weller's many quips: "Business first, pleasure arterwards, as King Richard the Third said wen he stabbed t'other king in the Tower, afore he smothered the babbies." ]
***********************************************************************
Sending his mailing address, Dr DQ quotes the funny line:
"I hereby declare that to the best of my knowledge this is an original, unpublished, widely discussed folktale".
I must say that folktales bear any number of original repetitions, in speech, song and in writing: the originality is in the way they are said or written.
To give a first person example, some time ago, 'A' was saying that he would 'rip' one of my 350 blogpieces to include in an anthology of original stories he and his friends are compiling. And he must have been wondering which one to pick.
Then came: "Bharavi's Atonement".
His decision was instantly made: "Bharavi was fantastic (indeed is a riot, Saswat beat me to that expression, though).. I am thinking of ripping this one from your blog for my intended anthology".
And to think that Bharavi's story must have been told, sung, dramatized, maybe filmed, and rewritten dozens of times!
****************************************************************
Varun posted 2 comments on: 'Near & Dear'. Some thoughts:
1. Regarding incest the most famous historical example is, in my opinion, Cleopatra marrying two of her brothers, apart from many others including Julius Caesar and Mark Antony. The custom of sisters marrying brothers appears to be common and approved in the Royal family of ancient
But, she bore no kids to her brothers though; only to others!
2. A nice collection of witty insults; about half of them new to me. Enjoyed them.
I had several months of fun browsing the most wonderful website:
Hundreds of Mark Twain quotations, with beautiful photos and pictures!
*******************************************************************
Saswat wonders: "The Reco Mela never ends..."
There is one more post: "Reco Mela - 5" in the offing, maybe tomorrow!
This will figure among others TRR, one of my best Project students. His Project gave us my longest and second-most-satisfying paper in AJP (on EFT's Spacetime Software).
He went to the
**************************************************************
As I said, the most beautiful thing in life is that children and students forgive their parents and teachers.
PoLtS has done that; and his copy of my elementary "Optics & QM" Lecture Notes is now on its flight to
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Reco Mela - 4
=======================================================
3. We shall now examine in some detail the Evolution and Escalation of the American Recommendation Letter over the last 4 decades:
**********************************************************************
1965: This is the golden era of US-going if you have an IIT stamp.
The Moon had to be seized, Cold War won, Vietcong fought tooth and claw, Economy booming courtesy the Military-Industrial Complex.
All Profs of all American Univs wanted cheap TA Sweat-Labor at rates about a tenth they paid to their baby-sitters and table-cleaners.
But to the kanjoos Indian, PURE GOLD!!!
You just post a dozen Air Mail Inland Letters (preferably by Departmental Mail if HNB is not looking) to various places picked up from the last but one Annexure of Webster (the last I think is the Proof-Correction symbols, I didn't check).
And wait.
Within weeks you get huge packets. You just show your Degree. GRE is waived, TOEFL unheard of, Registration Fee condoned, SoP a formality and shuck-letters unknown.
The Reco Form is just one page, one side. It comes with the latest Technology: 3 copies backing up the top thing, in different color schemes, for the Head, Dean, Chairman Admissions etc. There are no carbon papers! They are self-inking. You just insert the bunch in your Remington Typewriter, or take a ball-pen and go poetic on the top page; the copies automatically come up on all the back-ups like magic: only it never works that way. They are too faint to be legible. Maybe your typewriters or ball pens are not hi-tech enough. So, you pull out and try without unfastening them to overwrite; a punishment without reward: everything is garbled.
But it never mattered.
The rewarding part of it is that almost the entire reco page is vacant beseeching you to launch into a rhapsodic tirade. About 30 lines can be squeezed in if you have the will and the words.
That's about it.
If you are in the know, you can get the Fulbright Travel Grant too.
Passport will take its own sweet time depending on your connections; but visa is no problem: they are just waiting; you are the only one in the queue.
Just Heaven!
************************************************************************
1975: A new word entered our lexicon: Brain Drain.
Americans are now wary. Their TAs, while highly subject-savvy, are good only for khata-correction. They can write like a Goldsmith but like him they can't speak a word of intelligible American English; nor follow it (Contrast with 1996 when Ashish went to Caltech: his Prof not only outsourced his Classical Physics Lectures, but also Quantum Physics after listening to his first Lecture).
So, the Reco Form has some questions about Communication Skills, written as well as spoken.
Also, some more questions on analytical, comprehension and such other skills.
The space for poetry shrinks to about 75%.
Still GRE and such are not compulsory.
They seem to have discovered some native Indian ingenuity, and so the Degrees and what are called Transcripts have be authenticated by the Dean (Deans materialize at KGP just then, maybe for this Special Purpose).
*************************************************************************
1985: Flood Gates are cramming up!
GRE & TOEFL are now compulsory. And Registration fees too. Passport remains a hassle and visa too. You can't take it for granted; you have got to convince the guy or girl behind the Counter that you will RETURN!
Ha!!!
The Reco Form is now not one-page-3-carbonless-copies; Xerox arrived there. So, it is just one sheet; but two-faced, like Janus. You Xerox it if you can or they will do it for you after you send the filled-in Form.
The Reco Form is now a veritable Questionnaire. Inquisition. Full of 8x6 matrices. You have to 'check' in various slots depending on your mood.
More matrices and more intricate questions, such as: I have know this guy for so many years, in such and such a capacity, and place him in the top or bottom 5% or 10% etc of all students I have taught at this level.
Calls for elephantine memory or database of the grades of all the thousand odd students over the past 20 years, if you want to be honest.
The space for Poetry has shrunk to a very insignificant size: call it bra or pantie depending on its height from the bottom.
Still, you CAN write a few words glorifying the unmatched Tanmoy.
**********************************************************************
1995: Hurdles are unimaginably increased. Everything is compulsory: even a Viva for Spoken English.
You have to be prepared to stand in overnight queues in front of the visa counter.
Depends on your luck and the mood of the knitting Ma'ame deFarge.
Reco Form is now bristling with more matrices and more intimidating questions.
The space for poetry is just large enough for SDM's or EFT's signature (both have a bold and king-size handwriting).
Knowing this, the questionnaire asks you to attach a separate loose sheet (back to 1965 with a vengeance): you have to answer the Objective Part honestly (impossible) and also do a subjective essay of unimpeded length.
********************************************************************
2005: In God We Trust! Rest is CASH.
Give up!
The ONLINE Reco is in!!!
You have to take the active help of your net-savvy recoee. Otherwise, by the time you think up a suitable word to justify your claims: "You are timed out!"
And you are firmly in a Do-Loop.
Don't pause to think; just hit!
Best of Luck!!!
=========================================================
3. We shall now examine in some detail the Evolution and Escalation of the American Recommendation Letter over the last 4 decades:
**********************************************************************
1965: This is the golden era of US-going if you have an IIT stamp.
The Moon had to be seized, Cold War won, Vietcong fought tooth and claw, Economy booming courtesy the Military-Industrial Complex.
All Profs of all American Univs wanted cheap TA Sweat-Labor at rates about a tenth they paid to their baby-sitters and table-cleaners.
But to the kanjoos Indian, PURE GOLD!!!
You just post a dozen Air Mail Inland Letters (preferably by Departmental Mail if HNB is not looking) to various places picked up from the last but one Annexure of Webster (the last I think is the Proof-Correction symbols, I didn't check).
And wait.
Within weeks you get huge packets. You just show your Degree. GRE is waived, TOEFL unheard of, Registration Fee condoned, SoP a formality and shuck-letters unknown.
The Reco Form is just one page, one side. It comes with the latest Technology: 3 copies backing up the top thing, in different color schemes, for the Head, Dean, Chairman Admissions etc. There are no carbon papers! They are self-inking. You just insert the bunch in your Remington Typewriter, or take a ball-pen and go poetic on the top page; the copies automatically come up on all the back-ups like magic: only it never works that way. They are too faint to be legible. Maybe your typewriters or ball pens are not hi-tech enough. So, you pull out and try without unfastening them to overwrite; a punishment without reward: everything is garbled.
But it never mattered.
The rewarding part of it is that almost the entire reco page is vacant beseeching you to launch into a rhapsodic tirade. About 30 lines can be squeezed in if you have the will and the words.
That's about it.
If you are in the know, you can get the Fulbright Travel Grant too.
Passport will take its own sweet time depending on your connections; but visa is no problem: they are just waiting; you are the only one in the queue.
Just Heaven!
************************************************************************
1975: A new word entered our lexicon: Brain Drain.
Americans are now wary. Their TAs, while highly subject-savvy, are good only for khata-correction. They can write like a Goldsmith but like him they can't speak a word of intelligible American English; nor follow it (Contrast with 1996 when Ashish went to Caltech: his Prof not only outsourced his Classical Physics Lectures, but also Quantum Physics after listening to his first Lecture).
So, the Reco Form has some questions about Communication Skills, written as well as spoken.
Also, some more questions on analytical, comprehension and such other skills.
The space for poetry shrinks to about 75%.
Still GRE and such are not compulsory.
They seem to have discovered some native Indian ingenuity, and so the Degrees and what are called Transcripts have be authenticated by the Dean (Deans materialize at KGP just then, maybe for this Special Purpose).
*************************************************************************
1985: Flood Gates are cramming up!
GRE & TOEFL are now compulsory. And Registration fees too. Passport remains a hassle and visa too. You can't take it for granted; you have got to convince the guy or girl behind the Counter that you will RETURN!
Ha!!!
The Reco Form is now not one-page-3-carbonless-copies; Xerox arrived there. So, it is just one sheet; but two-faced, like Janus. You Xerox it if you can or they will do it for you after you send the filled-in Form.
The Reco Form is now a veritable Questionnaire. Inquisition. Full of 8x6 matrices. You have to 'check' in various slots depending on your mood.
More matrices and more intricate questions, such as: I have know this guy for so many years, in such and such a capacity, and place him in the top or bottom 5% or 10% etc of all students I have taught at this level.
Calls for elephantine memory or database of the grades of all the thousand odd students over the past 20 years, if you want to be honest.
The space for Poetry has shrunk to a very insignificant size: call it bra or pantie depending on its height from the bottom.
Still, you CAN write a few words glorifying the unmatched Tanmoy.
**********************************************************************
1995: Hurdles are unimaginably increased. Everything is compulsory: even a Viva for Spoken English.
You have to be prepared to stand in overnight queues in front of the visa counter.
Depends on your luck and the mood of the knitting Ma'ame deFarge.
Reco Form is now bristling with more matrices and more intimidating questions.
The space for poetry is just large enough for SDM's or EFT's signature (both have a bold and king-size handwriting).
Knowing this, the questionnaire asks you to attach a separate loose sheet (back to 1965 with a vengeance): you have to answer the Objective Part honestly (impossible) and also do a subjective essay of unimpeded length.
********************************************************************
2005: In God We Trust! Rest is CASH.
Give up!
The ONLINE Reco is in!!!
You have to take the active help of your net-savvy recoee. Otherwise, by the time you think up a suitable word to justify your claims: "You are timed out!"
And you are firmly in a Do-Loop.
Don't pause to think; just hit!
Best of Luck!!!
=========================================================
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