If I were a warrior in some medieval world, my weapon of choice would be a blingy fountain pen. Few things beat the sheer happiness of beautiful pen and paper. I’m often assailed by the urge to lay a nib on a blank sheet and pour out the existential woes that I feel are unique to me but are being experienced by approximately 14203622 people at the exact same moment. I’m stopped in my tracks by that most unconquerable of afflictions, a messy handwriting and an unfavourable disposition to, well, messy handwriting.
It’s strange how you can use an instrument for years, and find yourself wielding an object that feels alien. I have written reams upon reams of history, mathematics, literature, and sly notes to friends using these marvellous creations of man. Yet they refuse me. Every time we would have an extended break from school, we would come back struggling to put pen to paper. Such short memories hast thou, O pen! The malaise has continued for me, only that I do not need a break from pens to lose the ‘writer’s touch’. At times that are as stochastic (and as frequent) as the rains in Singapore, my pens shy away from my touch, refuse to move where I want them to, producing angry scrawls upon an obliging canvas. I have to force them into submission when I’d rather coax them gently. My hand looks upon them as a lover, they resist like the conquered would an imperialist.
I have drifted away from the world of messy handwritings to neat, if ugly, typescript because I loathe my inability to create something beautiful. It doesn’t capture half the joy of looking at a handcrafted article. Evade me not, my darlings, befriend me. You shall always remain my first loves.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
27.
In 400 words or less construct a story in the form of a series of post cards. Give us only what is on the post cards being sent from one person to another, letting the post card messages stand on their own, allowing the reader to decide what effect the messages have on the recipient.
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17 July 2006
Dear Viv,
Everything’s new here. The coffee, cars on the wrong side of the road, the huge meal sizes. All this will take time getting used to! I’m about to begin with orientation programs at university, they go on for a week along with the medical exams. Later this week, we are touring Boston, that should be fun! I’m hoping I meet some interesting people soon. I can’t wait to take you around when you get here. Miss you so much already, I wish you were here.
Love,
Zia
1 August 2006
Dear Viv,
Yes, I did take plenty of pictures. You’ll have to come here to see them, though! Classes are fun and not too difficult, at least not yet. I like three-four of my batchmates, we get along well and spend our evenings together playing tennis. I showed them the picture we had taken at the beach and they think you’re pretty. I couldn’t agree more. Miss you as much as ever.
Love,
Zia
17 August 2006
Dear Viv,
I’m sorry to hear about your uncle. I hope you’re alright and taking care. Classes and my tutoring job have been keeping me busy here. My students don’t take me very seriously, I’m too lenient to be a decent teacher. My friends (Amanat and Roy) and I are doing a weekly potluck, that has been fun so far. Cooking can be fun when you create your own recipes! Miss you, come visit me sometime!
Love,
Zia
1 October 2006
Viv,
Nothing much has been going on here. I’ve just been been busy with the usual stuff. My friends and I have been thinking of going on a trip around the US for our winter break. I did think about coming home, but the airplane costs proved prohibitive. It would have nice seeing you after what seems like ages. I hope your job is going on well. What else is new with you?
Love,
Zia
10 January 2007
Dear Viv,
I’ve been thinking, and this long-distance relationship really isn’t working. It’s so difficult keeping up the intensity via postcards or letters. If only someone would invent a way to keep in touch in real-time and didn’t cost as much as international calling...I hope there are no hard feelings, Viv, and that you remain the cheery girl I know.
Take care of yourself,
Zia
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17 July 2006
Dear Viv,
Everything’s new here. The coffee, cars on the wrong side of the road, the huge meal sizes. All this will take time getting used to! I’m about to begin with orientation programs at university, they go on for a week along with the medical exams. Later this week, we are touring Boston, that should be fun! I’m hoping I meet some interesting people soon. I can’t wait to take you around when you get here. Miss you so much already, I wish you were here.
Love,
Zia
1 August 2006
Dear Viv,
Yes, I did take plenty of pictures. You’ll have to come here to see them, though! Classes are fun and not too difficult, at least not yet. I like three-four of my batchmates, we get along well and spend our evenings together playing tennis. I showed them the picture we had taken at the beach and they think you’re pretty. I couldn’t agree more. Miss you as much as ever.
Love,
Zia
17 August 2006
Dear Viv,
I’m sorry to hear about your uncle. I hope you’re alright and taking care. Classes and my tutoring job have been keeping me busy here. My students don’t take me very seriously, I’m too lenient to be a decent teacher. My friends (Amanat and Roy) and I are doing a weekly potluck, that has been fun so far. Cooking can be fun when you create your own recipes! Miss you, come visit me sometime!
Love,
Zia
1 October 2006
Viv,
Nothing much has been going on here. I’ve just been been busy with the usual stuff. My friends and I have been thinking of going on a trip around the US for our winter break. I did think about coming home, but the airplane costs proved prohibitive. It would have nice seeing you after what seems like ages. I hope your job is going on well. What else is new with you?
Love,
Zia
10 January 2007
Dear Viv,
I’ve been thinking, and this long-distance relationship really isn’t working. It’s so difficult keeping up the intensity via postcards or letters. If only someone would invent a way to keep in touch in real-time and didn’t cost as much as international calling...I hope there are no hard feelings, Viv, and that you remain the cheery girl I know.
Take care of yourself,
Zia
26. Mumbai Local
I was waiting on platform 2 for the Panvel local. As the train approached, winding into the station like a gigantic flat-nosed anaconda, a bearded man started hailing it standing on a narrow edge of the platform. “Stop, Stop!” he seemed to cry, as his arms flailed, his hands waving the obedient train to a complete halt. As everyone else on the platform exchanged amused glances at this self-proclaimed conductor, I wondered what was going through his head. Did he think the train would go crashing into the station (it’s a one-way platform) eliminating humanity in its wake if it wasn’t given a gentle signal to stop by a bearded man in a red shirt? Or was he a funnyman who managed to break the monotony of our daily lives by giving us something to remember?
I’m no good at clambering onto moving trains, but needless to say, as any self-respecting traveler, I need to display my experience at this feat. I stare confidently at my competitors for a seat, sometimes I smile (mental games), I brace myself as the train arrives, and move to my position three feet from the platform edge. I congratulate myself on being the first woman in the first class compartment crowd. This glow of smugness lasts for about 10 seconds. That’s how long it takes for a horde of roughly a million women to appear from nowhere right between me and my compartment. Mumbai women are clearly emergent phenomena.
I’m no good at clambering onto moving trains, but needless to say, as any self-respecting traveler, I need to display my experience at this feat. I stare confidently at my competitors for a seat, sometimes I smile (mental games), I brace myself as the train arrives, and move to my position three feet from the platform edge. I congratulate myself on being the first woman in the first class compartment crowd. This glow of smugness lasts for about 10 seconds. That’s how long it takes for a horde of roughly a million women to appear from nowhere right between me and my compartment. Mumbai women are clearly emergent phenomena.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
25.
Over 22 years, I've lived in 8 houses. It makes my definition of 'home' malleable, I move in and move out in a trice leaving behind but traces of my existence. Perhaps that's why I started calling my hostel room 'home' before most people did. It didn't really matter when the room I had spent years in and embossed my personality upon was suddenly taken over by a friend whose family moved to our office-owned quarters.
We've lived in my current house for 6 years now. Lived, though, is a touch incongruous. I've lived in it for a year and then visited it twice a year while I was away in college. It was brand new when I moved away. When I came back every vacation, I'd find my parents older than before in a very noticeable way. The house seems to reflect this. It's creaky at the knees, looks worse for the wear and complains of disfunctioning parts. Not to equate my dad's hearing with a malfunctioning flush, but maybe that's what a home is about. It grows with you. If my mother's redecorations had anything to do with it, the house would grow every week.
The plumbers are over this week to fix that flush. Painters will be over soon to brush over the blotches on the wall that the monsoons bring. Our homes reflect our lives. Now if only our lives could reflect our homes and the painters and plumbers for our lives took our ageing blemishes away.
We've lived in my current house for 6 years now. Lived, though, is a touch incongruous. I've lived in it for a year and then visited it twice a year while I was away in college. It was brand new when I moved away. When I came back every vacation, I'd find my parents older than before in a very noticeable way. The house seems to reflect this. It's creaky at the knees, looks worse for the wear and complains of disfunctioning parts. Not to equate my dad's hearing with a malfunctioning flush, but maybe that's what a home is about. It grows with you. If my mother's redecorations had anything to do with it, the house would grow every week.
The plumbers are over this week to fix that flush. Painters will be over soon to brush over the blotches on the wall that the monsoons bring. Our homes reflect our lives. Now if only our lives could reflect our homes and the painters and plumbers for our lives took our ageing blemishes away.
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
24.
She works in a development bank at Mohammad Ali road, two hours away from her house at Kharghar. She chomps on roasted gram which keeps colds away. She used to live closer by in Andheri, but her son's college is in Kharghar, and there the family shifted. He studies chemical technology at Bharatiya Vidyapeeth, a three year diploma that will lead on to a bachelor's degree. He will then go to join his uncle's chemical plant in Oman where his gransmother lives.
She is worried about her son and she shows it. He loses Rs 22000 phones, scores just 77% in his boards, is barely passing in college, and takes full advantage of his mother being away most of the time.
A mother who's extraordinary by virtue of being one.
It's funny how much you can learn from conversations you've eavesdropped on during your morning train ride.
She is worried about her son and she shows it. He loses Rs 22000 phones, scores just 77% in his boards, is barely passing in college, and takes full advantage of his mother being away most of the time.
A mother who's extraordinary by virtue of being one.
It's funny how much you can learn from conversations you've eavesdropped on during your morning train ride.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
23. Visualizing the Brain's Senses
How are images and movements, in fact, memories in general, processed, recorded and stored in the brain? This is a question which has been asked repeatedly by neuroscientists for centuries. Recent experiments from the last year are bringing us closer to the answer.
When we ‘see’ something, our eyes transfer signals via the optic nerve to the visual center of the brain, which, like every part of the brain, is made up of nerve cells called neurons. This brain region processes and visualizes these signals, thus enabling us to recognize and classify objects. This processing occurs by the neurons ‘firing’, i.e, they transfer electrical signals between each other in a pattern that depends on the image being processed. Scientists have developed a procedure called Functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) to map this neuronal activity.
fMRI, a variant of the MRI scans record brain activity by detecting the changing blood flow in the brain using magnetic fields. The magnetic fields produced by blood rich in oxygen differ from those produced by blood poor in oxygen. The balance between oxygen-rich and oxygen-poor blood indicates the level of brain activity. fMRI can zero down to within a few millimetres of the active regions in the brain.
In 2011, researchers at the Gallant lab at the University of California (Berkeley) have observed dynamic neuronal activity patterns in the brain while patients are shown short movies. Described in the journal Current Biology, they first recorded the temporal neuronal patterns for
a number of movies, to try create ‘dictionaries’ (in terms of the observed neuronal pattern) for each scene along with the shapes, colours and edges in it. In other words, they tried to correlate electrical patterns both with the ‘big-picture’ depiction of the scene and with elements in it like
shapes and contours. Then, they tried to find out if they could predict the reverse direction- conjuring movies from brain patterns. The data from the fMRI scans for each movie was fed into a computer to create these ‘dictionaries’. Subjects were then asked to imagine a sequence from a movie that had been shown to them earlier. When patterns from their brain scans were recorded and transmitted to the ‘decoder’ computer, it could reconstruct the scenes they had been imagining with a fair amount of accuracy. With some science, imagining something could bring it to life.
Such studies can be extended beyond visual sensing to any form of brain activity, which could lead to direct communication to and from the brain via a computer. These could have great potential for improved and reliable lie detection tests, speech-impaired patients and perhaps even communication for paralysed patients. Decoding the language in which the brain converses is an important step forward in understanding the mechanisms of the brain.
When we ‘see’ something, our eyes transfer signals via the optic nerve to the visual center of the brain, which, like every part of the brain, is made up of nerve cells called neurons. This brain region processes and visualizes these signals, thus enabling us to recognize and classify objects. This processing occurs by the neurons ‘firing’, i.e, they transfer electrical signals between each other in a pattern that depends on the image being processed. Scientists have developed a procedure called Functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) to map this neuronal activity.
fMRI, a variant of the MRI scans record brain activity by detecting the changing blood flow in the brain using magnetic fields. The magnetic fields produced by blood rich in oxygen differ from those produced by blood poor in oxygen. The balance between oxygen-rich and oxygen-poor blood indicates the level of brain activity. fMRI can zero down to within a few millimetres of the active regions in the brain.
In 2011, researchers at the Gallant lab at the University of California (Berkeley) have observed dynamic neuronal activity patterns in the brain while patients are shown short movies. Described in the journal Current Biology, they first recorded the temporal neuronal patterns for
a number of movies, to try create ‘dictionaries’ (in terms of the observed neuronal pattern) for each scene along with the shapes, colours and edges in it. In other words, they tried to correlate electrical patterns both with the ‘big-picture’ depiction of the scene and with elements in it like
shapes and contours. Then, they tried to find out if they could predict the reverse direction- conjuring movies from brain patterns. The data from the fMRI scans for each movie was fed into a computer to create these ‘dictionaries’. Subjects were then asked to imagine a sequence from a movie that had been shown to them earlier. When patterns from their brain scans were recorded and transmitted to the ‘decoder’ computer, it could reconstruct the scenes they had been imagining with a fair amount of accuracy. With some science, imagining something could bring it to life.
Such studies can be extended beyond visual sensing to any form of brain activity, which could lead to direct communication to and from the brain via a computer. These could have great potential for improved and reliable lie detection tests, speech-impaired patients and perhaps even communication for paralysed patients. Decoding the language in which the brain converses is an important step forward in understanding the mechanisms of the brain.
Detour
“Life is not lost by dying; life is lost minute by minute, day by dragging day, in all the thousand small uncaring ways.”
— Stephen Vincent Ben
— Stephen Vincent Ben
Monday, February 13, 2012
22.
I'm a (reluctant) and infrequent member of the Bombay Bus Commuters' Association. A recent journey by the red buses enlightened me about their foremost entertainment options- in-flight, er, in-ride television.
While the screen is mostly blank in the mornings with a strip of information containing the news and sensex at the bottom, commuters at other times of the day get to view non-stop advertisements for programs on Star plus and Sony. The folks at BEST do bring in infotainment once in a while, though. "Test your English" is one such feature. You answer questions like "I was so _____ in class that I felt asleep". That isn't a typo. Ah, ironies.
The news marquee at the bottom displays cryptic news items like "Khurshid visits PM after EC sends complaint". What complaint? To whom? BEST is thoughtful enough to leave its users with interesting questions to pass the journey by.
I saw some “hi-sound” speakers on the bus, but it turned out the engines were “higher-sound” and you thus can’t hear a word from the lovely television while moving. But I then realised I couldn’t hear anything while the bus was still either. No-sound speakers? No, they merely happened to be connected to the PA system and not to the television.The television is mute. So this is the BEST’s message to Mumbai- Just watch Vidya Balan, what’s to hear?
While the screen is mostly blank in the mornings with a strip of information containing the news and sensex at the bottom, commuters at other times of the day get to view non-stop advertisements for programs on Star plus and Sony. The folks at BEST do bring in infotainment once in a while, though. "Test your English" is one such feature. You answer questions like "I was so _____ in class that I felt asleep". That isn't a typo. Ah, ironies.
The news marquee at the bottom displays cryptic news items like "Khurshid visits PM after EC sends complaint". What complaint? To whom? BEST is thoughtful enough to leave its users with interesting questions to pass the journey by.
I saw some “hi-sound” speakers on the bus, but it turned out the engines were “higher-sound” and you thus can’t hear a word from the lovely television while moving. But I then realised I couldn’t hear anything while the bus was still either. No-sound speakers? No, they merely happened to be connected to the PA system and not to the television.The television is mute. So this is the BEST’s message to Mumbai- Just watch Vidya Balan, what’s to hear?
Saturday, February 11, 2012
21.
Baby Jaishna now laughs! Yes, this calls for a celebration. She lies swaddled in her blue and pink baby clothes (yes, her mother picks boring colours) looking every bit like her father, and gurgles and laughs as spittle drips from her mouth. She makes these noises now, trying to say mumma, as her vocal chords protest. Her huge eyes light up even more and the smile is as much in her eyes as on her lips. They're brightest when looking at her mum.
When her father speaks and he's out of her line of sight, her eyeballs drift to the corners of her eyes in search of his voice, her mouth forming a slight 'O'. She kicks a lot and she's going to be an excellent footballer. Her voice also makes it likely she'll sing like her great-grandmum. Welcome to carnatic classes in a couple of years, little one.
When her father speaks and he's out of her line of sight, her eyeballs drift to the corners of her eyes in search of his voice, her mouth forming a slight 'O'. She kicks a lot and she's going to be an excellent footballer. Her voice also makes it likely she'll sing like her great-grandmum. Welcome to carnatic classes in a couple of years, little one.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
20.
There was a research study that said that you can never hear yourself sing badly in the shower because of the vibrations your voice makes against the drops of water. I can't find the paper anywhere, but I suspect singing in the face of a strong wind falls under the aegis of the same theory. Which is why I love standing in the doorway of the CST-Belapur local and singing loudly. I sound great, and I feel great.
While I'm at the doorway clutching the pole with my right hand and the hand-railing with my left, I ensure I catch a glimpse of the fluttering orange flag of the hilltop temple in Nerul. The sight of the brightly lit temple standing still is a nice reassurance. The temple stands tall and still while the world survives another day.
While I'm at the doorway clutching the pole with my right hand and the hand-railing with my left, I ensure I catch a glimpse of the fluttering orange flag of the hilltop temple in Nerul. The sight of the brightly lit temple standing still is a nice reassurance. The temple stands tall and still while the world survives another day.
19.
“Who broke the vase?” Ms Mala’s strict voice boomed across the filled classroom. Her question was met with a silence in which you could hear a pin drop. “Who was it?” repeated Ms Mala, only to receive the same response.
Siddharth sat cowering in his seat, certain that everyone’s eyes were on him. He had slipped into the class for a sip of water during the physical education period. He had stumbled at the doorway and fallen right over the teacher’s table, resulting in the vase falling to the floor with a mild crash. He had turned around and run away immediately without giving thought to what he should do. Later, as he participated in the game of cricket which was going on in the grounds, he had wondered if he should go back and tell the teacher. But the vase was expensive, and Ms. Mala stern. And besides, he’d just get into more trouble for not having owned up immediately...
Very soon, worried of another nature assailed him. What if his friends realised it was him? They all thought he had gone to the cooler to get his water but what if they put two and two together?
As the pin-drop silence in class continued, his arm slowly rose a few inches, trembling before it crashed back down. His heart was racing, what if someone had seen him? He was class topper, star student, what would people think of him now? Would they tell his parents? Would be have to endure the humiliation of standing outside class for an hour?
“If no-one owns up, the next PE period gets cancelled for the whole class!” This was getting worse. Silence followed.
His mouth parched, Siddharth sat still while Ms Mala punished the whole class for his cowardice.
Siddharth sat cowering in his seat, certain that everyone’s eyes were on him. He had slipped into the class for a sip of water during the physical education period. He had stumbled at the doorway and fallen right over the teacher’s table, resulting in the vase falling to the floor with a mild crash. He had turned around and run away immediately without giving thought to what he should do. Later, as he participated in the game of cricket which was going on in the grounds, he had wondered if he should go back and tell the teacher. But the vase was expensive, and Ms. Mala stern. And besides, he’d just get into more trouble for not having owned up immediately...
Very soon, worried of another nature assailed him. What if his friends realised it was him? They all thought he had gone to the cooler to get his water but what if they put two and two together?
As the pin-drop silence in class continued, his arm slowly rose a few inches, trembling before it crashed back down. His heart was racing, what if someone had seen him? He was class topper, star student, what would people think of him now? Would they tell his parents? Would be have to endure the humiliation of standing outside class for an hour?
“If no-one owns up, the next PE period gets cancelled for the whole class!” This was getting worse. Silence followed.
His mouth parched, Siddharth sat still while Ms Mala punished the whole class for his cowardice.
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