An Evening of Interest (a.k.a the randomest thing you'll read in a while)

Those of you who know me, know that I am a socially inept monument to awkwardness. I know this too. For the longest period, I have lived happily with the fact that the set of me, and the set of society, do not intersect. At all. I've been at peace.

Then recently, I decided that I should try to change this. I should go 'out of my comfort zone' and meet the world. During the period when I was thinking this, I happened to read a notice proclaiming 'Free Salsa Lesson' in the college bus. If you are of average intellect or above, you should know what happened next.

Common sense demands that someone born with approximately pi left feet should not attempt dances. And yet, philosophical me won this battle against logical me. I decided to attend this lesson. The turnout? Approximately the same number of guys and girls. Reassuringly, the guys looked as clumsy as I am. Worryingly, the girls didn't.

Round 1: the basic steps of Salsa
Paired up with a French girl
Considering how simple the basic steps of Salsa are, I would have to be an absolute cretin to do this wrong. Thankfully I didn't do this wrong.

Round 2: the first variations
Paired up with another French girl
This pairing was not so bad at all. We got along reasonably well, and the dancing wasn't a disaster.

Round 3: intermediate-1
Paired up with an American girl
Now this girl was very excited about the whole dance thing. We agreed on the sequence of steps we would do, and then we did them. This was exceptional (by my abysmal standards). Barely a foot wrong, and fairly smooth.

Round 4: intermediate-2
Paired up with another American girl
This girl was a legit trained dancer. Unlike the other American, she wouldn't agree on what steps to do. She kept telling me, 'In Salsa, the male must lead'. I kept telling her that I was a rank newbie, and that I couldn't spontaneously decide what to do. Result - pointless hand holding, and stepping forward and back for the length of the song.

Round 5: advanced
Paired up with the last of the three French girls
This pairing was an unmitigated disaster. Like the American before her, she insisted that I 'lead' the dance. I was failing so hard at this point trying to figure out which intermediate variations I wanted to 'lead' her into, that I was getting the basic footing wrong.

Poor women. Must've had the worst dance partner of their lives. Anyhow, I'd learnt something socially useful. It was time to head home. I stepped out of the student centre to be greeted by pouring rain. I stopped at the nearest bus stop. After five minutes, a girl unexpectedly plonks her bag next to me,
"Keep a watch on that till I get back"
"Uhm, okay."
Two minutes later, she returns,
"Hi! Some rain huh?"
"Yeah..."
We begin to make polite small talk. Then, out of the blue, she starts discussing the geography of ancient Mesopotamia, and how it was between the Tigris and Euphrates. I have no idea how I even kept up this discussion, but I did. Then suddenly,
"PLEASE DON'T TELL ME YOU'RE WAITING FOR THE BUS!"
"Uhm, yeah, I am..."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Buses don't come here after 6PM."
"Oh. I didn't know that. I guess I'll go to the bus stop on the opposite side of the campus then. Thanks, and b'bye!"
"Bye! Nice meeting you."

I walked in the rain to the next bus stop. In the bus stop, a grumpy man in a wheelchair stood beside a woman who I assumed was his wife. As I waited, an african-american (who I shall refer to hence forth as black, with zero negative connotations except the fact that it is shorter than african-american) joins us. The (white) guy in the wheelchair and the black man started arguing about something.

The bus arrived a few minutes later. The black man got into the bus. The lady followed. Then the grumpy man started telling the driver where he wanted to go. The driver (also black) politely told him that this bus would take approximately forever to take him where he wanted to go. The white guy started complaining about how he was a war veteran, and that that should stand for something. Bus driver didn't want to listen to him ranting, so he asked him to get on. At this point I realised that the white guy was very drunk, and the woman was not his wife.

Once in the bus, he sarcastically commented, 'It is so wonderful that this country has made such luxuries available to our guests.' (The bus was full of foreign students). He then continued to argue with the black man. He called the black guy over for a 'heart to heart' talk. Black guy retorted that he wasn't gay, and didn't want to sit next to him. After much argument, he finally agreed. Black guy wanted to avoid trouble, so he went and sat next to him, patted his shoulder, and said something to the effect of, 'Let it be man, why fight?'
But the white man wouldn't relent, "Don't touch me... I don't like being touched by your kind."
"Then why did you call me?"
"Because I like to talk to the darkness."

So, not only was he drunk, he was also a racist. He argued with the black guy for a bit, and then rudely said, "You're dismissed, go back to where you were."
The black guy went back. Now the white guy started telling the woman who I had thought to be his wife, about how great it was to be in the army. She was responding with an indifferent 'Uh-huh' to everything he said.

At this point, the bus driver was tired of his ranting, and said, "Sir, if you don't stop talking, I am going to call the police and have them drop you home."
"Thank you driver, that will not be necessary."
"That's what I thought."
"I would like to say one last thing."
There was a moment's silence, and in this silence, the white guy raised his hand, and shouted, "Give me liberty, or give me death!"

The bus driver absolutely lost it at this point. He stopped the bus, and got up to call the police. The white guy now started pleading about how he had asked for permission to say one last thing, and had not been denied by the bus driver. After much pleading, the driver calmed down, and continued to drive.

Realising that situation had now swung, the black guy started taunting the white guy, knowing that he wouldn't respond any more. Watching the white guy cursing under his breath and gesticulating was extremely funny. The bus driver was tired of their squabbling, and just kept driving. A few minutes later, the bus had arrived at my house, and so ended a memorable night in the USA.

An Idea of India

What is the meaning of India? What is the meaning of patriotism? We are taught in school to love our country, to be patriotic. That 'spirit' is instilled in all of us from a very young age. I don't recall a single person telling me what constitutes 'loving your country'. There are many viewpoints that I've come across, including,
-> Protecting the heritage and culture of the country is love for the country
-> Protecting the spread of foreign influences is love for the country
-> Shooting down (figuratively) people who criticise India is love for the country
-> Preserving local languages is love for the country
.
.
.

You get the drift. The problem is, I can't seem to agree with any of this. I don't really care for India's culture and heritage. I don't care so much for languages. I do argue with people who unnecessarily criticise the country, but I agree that this country is deeply flawed. I'm all for the spread of foreign influences. Do I hate India? I don't think so. I just can't figure out what it is about India that I love. There is so much cynicism everywhere. So much 'chalta hai'. So much 'it's somebody else's problem'. What do I love? I don't really know. I do know that it is a hopeless, unyielding love. But why?

I have no answers. Until I do, maybe I'll look at the lakhs of people who died for the idea of India. I don't know what their ideas were. But whatever they were, they were worth dying for. While I look for my own idea, maybe I'll manage with the fact there were once ideas worth dying for.

Red? Yellow?

This is going to be a pretty small post - just a musing. Been working with photoshop a lot lately, and I've noticed something. The range of colours that lie between purples and cyans is defined as blue. The range of colours that lie between yellow and cyans are defined as green. Both of these ranges are fairly large. However, when it comes to Red, the range is very small. A little one way and you get pinks. A little the other way, and you get oranges. Same with Yellow - a very small range of colours is yellow. I'm talking only about these four colours because RBY are the three primary colours, and RGB is a popular method of colour representation.

Any ideas?

(Dis)Belief

The Ayodhya verdict has come, and I've finally been able to have a decent look at it. I like the fact that the court wants an amicable solution that does not hurt any particular religion. There is one thing that riles me - the fact that the HC seems to have implicitly accepted (if not declared) that the Babri Masjid dome was the birthplace of Ram.

Too many questions come to mind here. But basically, how can anyone prove beyond doubt that Ram was born at that exact location? Does some scripture mention exact geographic co-ordinates? Just because people believe something doesn't mean it's true. If that's how the judgement is going to work, let me stake a claim too.

I claim, nay, I believe that the Flying Spaghetti Monster was born at the exact same location that is the claimed birthplace of Ram. Further, my scriptures say that FSM was born there before Ram. That is where his noodly appendage first touched man. I therefore stake claim to the disputed land.


The land must be handed over to the Church of Pastafarianism and we must be allowed to build a monument (probably spaghetti and meatballs) to FSM. According to the HC, this belief is all I need to 'prove' that FSM was indeed born there. I have not furnished a shred of evidence (because FSM was born thousands of years ago, before Ram), but my claim is as valid as the claim for a Temple there. Ridiculous.

There is documented proof of a Mosque there. There is specious evidence (?), if any, of a temple or of anyone being born there. So lets go by the evidence - build a Mosque there. Build a temple adjacent to it. And lets live peacefully ever after, not letting idiot politicians divide us again.

Procreation

This is a response to this blog post:
Existence
Please give that a read before you continue reading this.

(No, seriously!)

Now that you've read it, a little recap - Abhishek asks why people want to have children. I present my response to this question:

1. Because: They like children
Individual choice stands for a lot, and people like many things that make no sense to other people. There will also be people who must be in a relationship. Others will find that confounding. People want to have children, so they will.

2. Because: The BPL argument
A history teacher once put forward this argument to explain why you tend to see really poor people have large families. Poor people think that raising more children means there will be more people to support the family, and themselves. The said teacher had also, quite rightly pointed out - if there must be x number of children born every day, let them be born into a family that can support the children. The BPL argument is inherently flawed, but it is true.

3. Because: Cogito Ergo Sum
Man thinks, therefore he is. I like to believe that one of the most fundamental needs of the human race is the desire to gain knowledge. Knowledge comes from new ideas. New ideas cannot come about from an ageing, dying race of people. New ideas need new people - a new generation.

4. Because: Legacy
Another fundamental desire of the human race is to leave behind a legacy. Everyone wants to die knowing that someone, somewhere will remember them. For great luminaries of any generation, this is easy - their acts leave behind a legacy that will remind future generations of them. An ordinary person (by virtue of being ordinary) does not have access to this sort of legacy. Procreation is another way of being remembered. Your children will remember you. It's not as great a legacy as that left behind by a great scientist, but it's better than none.

5. Because: Anarchy
One of the reasons that the world at least attempts to control its excesses is so that something maybe left behind for the future generations. If the whole world were to go completely, and irreversibly sterile - it would be worse for the planet than it is now. Today you try to minimise using a fuel guzzling SUV because you want to limit the harm you cause to the planet. If there is no future, you might as well trash the planet as you go. And make no mistake - that is exactly what will happen. 2000 years of (recent) history point out that humanity is not a race well suited to compromise and agreement.

6. Because: It makes no difference if Humanity dies out
If the human race dies out, you only buy the planet a few million years. It's a seemingly long time, but not very long when compared to the age of the earth. A new dominant species will rise, and will eventually behave the same as we do now.

7. Because: Natural Selection
Natural selection is the reason why we're all here today. Natural selection exists on simple principles - the race must go one, and only the best of the race must go on. Consider a situation where the six billion people of the world have agreed to not reproduce. There will be people who will circumvent this agreement- let us say 2 million people, giving birth to a million babies. You can act all hurt about these people breaking the pact, but it will actually be Natural Selection acting in its best interests- the genes of those unfit to carry on the race, the 5.998 billion who abstained, are eliminated from the gene pool. The remaining million face possibly the best quality of life in modern history.

Finally - Abhishek says, "We exist, therefore, we protect existence." This is not a unique thought. It's just a rewording of natural selection. Every species exists to protect its own existence. There is nothing special about humans in this respect - it is a part of the instinct that every animal shares.

Those are some reasons for people to have babies. I don't agree with all of them, just some of them.

But Why?

Pakistani cricketers leave me confused. They are, on natural talent, probably the best team in the world. And yet, their cricketers indulge in some of the most brainless behaviour you can ever see. Take Shoaib Akhtar. A brilliant natural talent, a sight to see when on form, and yet he had to go take performance enhancing drugs. Ditto Mohammad Asif. Easily one of the best pace bowlers in the world right now, and he goes and takes drugs. I don't get it. What is it that these people are trying to improve? Their speed? Swing? What exactly is the point!?
I can understand if someone mediocre like Munaf Patel decides to take performance enhancing drugs (and he hasn't, I hope). What is the justification for taking illegal drugs when you're already SO DAMN GOOD!?

And that brings me to Mohammad Amir. All of 17. Already heralded as the next great pace bowler. And then you see him indulging in spot fixing. Again, why? It's not like he is (was?) a struggling nobody who couldn't be sure of his place on the team. He was probably the first automatic selection before every match. Why risk all that for some money?

I find it very perplexing. I feel sad that the match I thought was such a brilliant marquee for the game was fixed (if even in bits). Pakistan produces such an abundance of natural talent... if only they'd think a bit, the world would be better for it.

Cake as a metophor for life

Just the other day, I was talking to VRD, and ended up saying that cake is a metaphor for life. It was said in jest, but come to think of it, it is true. This is because cake, like life, can be bitter, sweet, dry, awesome, horrible, cheesy, hard etc.

Like life, cake has a lot of variety. Cakes can be confusing, astounding, magnificent or boring.

Most importantly, like life...

... the cake is a lie!

Talent

Precocious Talent in the 20th Century:


Precocious 'talent' in the 21st Century:



How sad.

(For those in the dark: Row 1: Sachin Tendulkar, Eric Clapton, Michael Jackson. Row 2: Justin Bieber, Hannah Montana, Jonas Brothers)

Reassuring - I

I'm heading home from Manmad. It's 1 AM, the train is almost two hours late. After waiting for a bit at the station, the train finally arrives. I pick up the bags and board the train. S-6 looks more like a 'General' coach, with people sleeping in the aisles. I finally get to my berth - it's a middle berth. The berth is set into place, and I'm about to lie down. I suddenly notice that one of the chains holding up the berth is not taut. The entire berth is being supported by only one chain.

It makes me a little uneasy, but since there's nothing I can do, I try to sleep. The uneasiness just won't go. I keep wondering, will a single chain safely hold up my weight? The uneasiness gives way to calculation...

Approximate oval chain links as rectangular chain links (Since I've never been able to calculate stresses in curved members with a calculator, and certainly wasn't going to succeed with mental math)
Therefore, the links can fail in shear.
Yeild Strength of Mild Steel - Approximately 200 MPa (Close enough)

Shear strength is taken to be half of the Tensile Strength - 100 MPa

Diameter of chain links - 5 mm (Measured by 'looking')

Cross sectional area - (Pi/4)*5*5 = approx 20 sq. mm (actually 19.63)

Load on chain links - 90Kg x 9.8 = approx 900N(My weight + weight of berth)

Shear stress on any chain link - 900/20 = 45MPa

Permissible Shear Stress - 100 MPa

Conclusion : The berth will not fall, even though only one chain is holding it up.

Reassured, I sleep.

Conscience

The scene: fag end of a horribly annoying robotics paper. Have just reached a problem that is in two parts. Part 1, I knew exactly how to do. Part 2, I assumed would never come in a paper, and if it did, 'I'd figure it out.'

So now I'm there, 'figuring it out'. Three possible answers come from the three possible ways of doing the problem - 2.5 years, 3 years and 3.33 years. The numbers are running through my head. After a brief battle in my head, I finally decide on 2.5 years.

About three minutes later, the paper ends. The usual post-paper rapid copying session begins. I wearily close the answer booklet and keep the pen down in disgust.

The guy in front of me looks at another guy,

Guy 1: What's the answer to the payback period problem?
Guy 2: Three years
Guy 1: Great, I got the same answer!

Almost instantaneously, a demon and an angel appear on my shoulders. (Okay, so they don't, but we'll pretend that they did).

Demon: Go on! Change it!
Hands eagerly start looking for the last pages of the answer booklet
Angel: NO WAY!
Sheepish hands keep looking for that page, albeit more slowly
Demon: Come on! You haven't done this for three-and-a-half years. No one will grudge you this once!
Happy hands find the problem
Angel: Now is no time to begin.
Brain starts to think of the method that gives 3 years as the answer
Demon: Al..mo..st.. there!
Brain has decided the changes to be made. Hand slowly moves towards pen
Angel: You decided that 2.5 years made the most sense. YOU made that choice, now see it through, no matter what.

The whole 'back your decisions' thing suddenly snaps the brain out of the angel-demon reverie.

I'm glad I didn't change it. Turned out later that I had 'figured it out' the correct answer. And I'm proud I didn't give in. My sinless record in college survives!

How Dare You?

A lot has been said about Sachin Tendulkar's 'I am an Indian first' statement. The author wishes to make it clear that this post is not a defence of Tendulkar. He does not need to be defended.

I find it amazing how pathetic the Shiv Sena has become. To launch an attack on Sachin Tendulkar, just to whip up regional hysteria. First and foremost- they said Tendulkar has played 20 years for the BCCI. I strongly object. Tendulkar has always played for only ONE entity, and that is INDIA. Of course, the concept will be hard to explain to these bigoted Maharashtrians. (The author points out that he is a Maharashtrian).

A lot is being said about 26/11 these days. During those troubled times, I remember an RBS advert. Sachin speaking in a comforting voice - 'I play for India, now, more than ever.' I remember that victory against England, to soothe frayed nerves. I don't remember where the MNS and the SS were at that time. I don't remember them demanding that Maharashtrian commandos carry out the operation. I don't remember them doing anything. On the other hand, a year later, with all threat to self gone, they went and protested in front of Leopolds.

I'm surprised that the verbal battle with Tendulkar didn't begin earlier. If you look back, the roles of politicians and Tendulkar have always been antithetical. Over the past 20 years, politicians have done everything to rip the fabric of this country apart. The BJP divided us into Hindus and others. The SS divided us into Maharashtrians and South Indians. The MNS is trying to divide us into Maharashtrians and others. And over that same period of time, Tendulkar has always been there. Always there to heal this broken country. While his bat talked, for those fleeting moments, we were not Hindus, not Muslims, not Christians, not any other sect. For those moments we were not East, West, North or South Indians. We were Indians. Bound together by the majesty of one man.

Who is Bal Thakeray, then, to question Sachin, OUR Sachin? What has he done over the past twenty years for India? Other than trying very hard to tear it apart, what is his contribution? What has he done for Maharashtrians, other than giving us a bad name? We are not bigoted, intolerant fools like the SS and the MNS. We're decent, sensible, normal people.

The whole 'divide and rule' thing is bit old, really. It worked very well hundreds of years ago. Politicians still get some mileage out of it these days. It's got to stop. And it will not stop until WE put an end to this. It will not stop until we stand united against this intolerant mindset of almost all our politicians. Are we all up for it?

Different things from the same night

Went out for a friend's birthday party. A couple of things happened over the course of the night that I'd like to write about...

#1 - Talking to a friend, Sa,
Sa: You've tasted most of the beer we drink.. what do you think?
Me: Meh... it's so bitter, why drink it?
Sa: See, it's not about bitter... It gives me a mild high, which I like. The bitter doesn't matter to me.
Me: But aren't there better tasting things to get a high with?
Sa: Such as what?
Me: Adrenaline for one... not that you get to taste it...
Sa: And how do you suppose I get adrenaline?
Me: Bikes... Doing crazy things on a bike really gets the adrenaline pumping
Sa: And yeah, you expect me to do crazy stuff on a Pep?
Me: *speechless*

Ah well, to each his own...

#2 - Having dinner,
A friend of the b'day boy (I don't know him directly (the friend, not the b'day boy)) was trying to squeeze a lemon onto some food,
H: What the hell man, no juice in this lemon...
Sa: Arre woh nimbu nahi, mazaak hai...
H (signalling a waiter) : Arre bhaiiya nimbu laana... mazaak nahin
*laughter all around*

Ha Ha

So Beautiful

It's the sort of thing that you can really appreciate after an annoying day. Having slept most of the day with a sore throat, fever and a nasty cold, sleep was hard to come by at night. Restlessly pacing about in the balcony, with nothing to do, I happened to look up. The sky was astonishingly clear (compared to last year). It took me a few seconds to orient myself. Suddenly it all came flooding back...
There was a distorted M, now setting into the west...
There was the 'V' (not for vendetta) of Taurus...
And there was an all too familiar fuzzy patch in the sky...

It was too clear for it to be true. I actually spent the next few seconds making sure that it was, in fact, Pleiades. And it was. Photographs are insufficient, when it comes to the Pleiades.

That photo is very nice and all that, but it is nothing compared to how dainty Pleiades really looks when seen with the naked eye. The wonder multiplies when you look through a telescope- it's almost stellar spam!

It's something you must do at least once in your life- see the pleiades in all its glory. Like the title says - so beautiful.

Growing up

Is the time it takes for the Birthday flag in your status register to go from:

1 - Yipeee!! Birthday time

to

0 - Heh, it's my birthday

to

x - Don't care

The drivel that is 2.0

I've been using the internet since the early days of the technology in India. When 28.8kbps was decent. When 56.6kbps was blazing fast. When a 1MB file took an hour (or more) to download. I distinctly remember when HTML4 was the 'in' thing. I've coded some websites myself...

Over the past couple of years, the one thing that disturbs me is the emergence of the so called 'Web 2.0'. It's supposed to be this revolution in the way web sites are designed. And it is. It has made web sites glossy, cool and hard to use. Don't get me wrong- people who know me will appreciate that I'm all for the 'this looks awesome for no reason' funda. But not at the cost of usability. During the last year, two websites I frequent , CricInfo and The Inquirer, have undergone a significant facelift. For starters, the experience was horrendous in the first few days after the switch. And even so, after I got used to the new 2.0 interfaces, I have not noticed any real improvement in the usability of either site.

The only change I have observed is that the sites are now more bandwidth intensive (which does not really bother me since I'm on broadband, but you don't leave the tap open just because you get 24hrs water supply, do you?). They look flashy and cool, but the sole reason I go to these sites is the fact that they had excellent content. I fail to see how web 2.0 is a value addition.

I know it appears like I'm now cribbing about inconsequential things, but since you've held on for so long, I'll leave you with another revelation (it was to me, anyway). I have been used to the internet as it was for many years, almost a decade now. Web 2.0 makes me feel technologically retarded. Maybe this is what growing old feels like. When the young can adapt so easily to the new world, while the old struggle to keep up... I think those of you who have been online since as long as I have will appreciate what I say. Those of you who who are relatively new will simply have to wait for a few years before you too can feel old and feeble!

One thing's for sure, I know what my mum feels like when she comes across a computer.

Don't Panic!

With that reference to the lord of humour, I'm going to talk today, about braking on wet roads. A lot of people tend to fall while riding on wet roads. This has a lot to do with the manner in which the brakes are applied on a two wheeler. Most people believe that on wet roads you must forgo the use of the front brake and use only the rear brake. This, is a very risky thing to do. I'm going to explain, with the help of a little bit of mechanics, how brakes should be used in the wet (or even dry).

Before we get to the braking though, a few general tips. The water on the road reduces the friction between the road surface and your tyres. While riding on a road with a little bit of water (i.e. not standing water), the water will tend to reduce the friction (or grip) available to you by about 15%. So, for starters, ride about 20% slower than you would on dry roads. Secondly, maintain distance between the vehicle in front of you. On a dry road, I remember rearset saying somewhere that you should maintain a distance to the vehicle in front of you such that you can see the tyres of that vehicle. On a wet road, extending this distance further, as much as a car length is a good idea. Additionally, avoid riding on anything that is not tar/concrete, i.e. painted signs, tiles, metal manhole covers, etc. That 5% difference in grip may be the difference between you being on the bike and on the ground.

Now, on to the braking part. Consider a two wheeler travelling on a stretch of road,


In the picture above, imagine the long straight line to be the body of your two wheeler. Consider four frictional forces in that figure. Fft and Ffb are the frictional forces at the tyre-road interface and brake respectively for the front wheel. Similarly, Frt and and Frb are the frictional forces at the tyre-road interface and brake respectively for the rear wheel.

In order to slow down the bike, without causing a wheel to lock up, the frictional force at the tyre-road interface must exceed the force applied by the brake at all times. As long as Fft exceeds Ffb, the frictional force at the tyre-road interface will force the tyre to keep rotating. If Ffb becomes higher that Fft, the tyre will simply stop rotating and lock up. This would imply that you should apply equal, but limited pressure on both brakes to brake safely. There is another factor though. The moment you start braking, the body of the bike tends to lurch forward due to inertia. This motion compresses the front shock absorbers and allows the rear shocks to expand. So, once you start braking, the picture changes to this,

Shocks are not perfect, and therefore will transmit force (even though they're supposed to absorb it). Therefore, you now have a state where there is a greater load on the front wheel than there is on the rear wheel. This means that Fft now greatly exceeds Frt. It is easy now to lock up the rear wheel, and correspondingly hard to lock up the front wheel, because the limiting values of Ffb and Frb have also changed.

This is the reason why bikes always have a stronger brake on the front wheel. The explanation above holds for dry and wet weather. The correct method for braking therefore, is to start braking with only the rear brake. Once weight transfer to the front begins, slowly start using the front brake, and reduce the pressure on the rear brake. This ensures that you're less likely to lock up either wheel.

Don't Panic
If you understood what I just said, you should be less likely to lock up the front wheel. Rear wheel lock ups are still possible. If you do lock up the rear, whatever you do, don't panic. Because the front wheel still isn't locked, chances are that you'll still be going in a straight line. Gently release the rear brake, more often than not, it'll start rotating again.
Always be prepared to fall. There's no technique in the world that can ensure that you'll never fall. You WILL fall, all you can do is to reduce the frequency. When you are open to the possibility of falling, if you do fall, you'll probably get up, pick up the bike and start riding again. If you believe that you can never fall, when you do, you'll be too stunned to do anything about it.

That does it for my first biking techniques post. Feedback on whether or not that was coherent and understandable is welcome.

Got the goose!

The title is of course, a reference to a post by falconer, here. The goose was a comet. Comet Lulin, visiting us for the first and last time.
I had been too tired to accompany Falconer and Abba when they tried to spot it a few days ago. Last night, I decided to give it a go myself. Too lazy to setup the telescope. I thought it would be easier to try and spot it through the viewfinder (which is basically a very small telescope, a sidekick of the big one). And spot it I did. A few degrees east of Saturn, in the constellation of Virgo. Looked to me like a faint blur. Not visible to the naked eye, just visible through the viewfinder.
Thanks to last night, I've come up with a new way to use the viewfinder. We tend to use it with only one eye, closing the other so we can concentrate on the view we see from the finder. Last night, I used it with both eyes open. The right eye at the finder eyepiece, looking at the magnified sky, and the left eye open to the heavens. If you have a suitable finder, this is a great trick to use. The left eye gives you a picture of the sky. The right eye can see the cross hairs of the finder. When you want to point at a particular object in the sky, just bring the object (visible in the sky, thanks to left eye) into the cross hairs of the finder (visible in the finder, thanks to left eye). And viola! You'll see it as clear as day bang in the centre of the cross hairs in the finder as well.
The human eyes. Quite amazing. Not only do the presence of two of them, as they are, give us a sense of depth, but the juxtaposition of images that takes place from both eyes lets us perform little tricks like these!

To be loved

I don't mean romantic love. I mean respect, adulation, adoration, awe. It is the reason why I feel working in an office all day long is tiring. It is not fulfilling. Humans crave all of the emotions I just mentioned. This post has been in my head since the Brazilian Grand Prix (Formula 1) of 2008. The last race of the year. Felipe Massa - a Brazilian in a Ferrari was in with a chance to win the drivers world championship. It was a moving sight, even on TV, to see the crowd in the stands. I cannot imagine any experience in life better than to perform in front of such a large crowd that overwhelmingly supports you. That race had to be seen to be believed. The fan reaction when he crossed the finish line, the drivers champion if the order at that moment held. The deafening silence when the order changed and he lost the drivers championship by a single point. It's hard to describe.

I attended a metal concert a couple of months ago. Ensiferum, at IIT Bombay. I doubt more than 5% of the crowd knew what the band were singing or even who they were. I didn't. But they were fantastic. So much so that I (and if you know me, you'll see how this is a little surprising) landed up in the mosh pit. Took me on another thought voyage. Can you imagine what it would be like to be the band in this case? To have a huge crowd in your grasp, to see that people were having the time of their lives because of you? What would it feel like?

It's not only a showman who can feel this though. Even the lowly engineer can. If he is in the right place that is. (The author apologises for delving deep into graphics processing unit folklore) In the first half of 2008, ATI, the graphics arm of Advanced Micro Devices, came out with the Radeon 4800 series of graphic cards. This series, in way that cannot be comprehended fully, changed the computer graphics industry forever. For so many years, ATI and Nvidia tried to play better (metaphorically). In 2008, ATI stopped trying to play better. It changed the rules. The 4800 series captured the imagination of everyone who cared for this industry. A couple of months later, I came across an article on Anandtech, describing what went into creating the 4800 series. The design team took gambles, audacious gambles, and it all paid off. The comments to that article are relevant to this post. It was a public outpouring of admiration for the folks at ATI.

During a similar time last year, I also saw The Dark Knight in theatres. The first day and the first show. The movie had been hyped to levels I had seldom seen. And it lived up to the hype. In fact, it exceeded the hype. Most of this was thanks to a certain Heath Ledger. I have never seen a movie receive a standing ovation at the end of a screening. That day I did. I'm sorry that the people associated with the film do not get a chance to see this reaction (I'm sure it happened many times over across the world).

Life isn't about how much money you earn. It isn't about how much success you have. It isn't about how many promotions you get. It isn't about how many cars or houses you have. It is about being loved. The love of a small group of people close to you, and the love of a large group of people across the world. I wish that life takes me along a path that will let me achieve my goal in life. Indeed, there is only one. To be loved.

You don't know what this means....

... until it happens to you.

@ At the other entity involved- no hard feelings, merely an observation.
Disclaimer: The image and alt text are copied exactly as is from xkcd.
(c) xkcd etc.

Marat Safin

I don't consider myself a tennis fan. I know most of the rules, know the current world #1s. But that's about it. On a fine January morning in 2005, I happened to read an article celebrating the twenty-fifth birthday of (to me) little known Russian tennis player. That player was of course, Marat Safin (And if you didn't see that coming after the post title, YOU'RE A DOLT). I remember being extremely fascinated by this man. I loved the fact that he wore his heart on his sleeve, wasn't afraid to say what he thought. His temper amused me too - he'd break racquets and berate himself in multiple languages... His only stumbling block was his form, which varied as erratically as weather forecasts vary from reality. I decided that I had to see this man play. It was convenient that his birthday, and consequently the article, were around the time of the 2005 Australian open. I saw all of his matches during that Australian open, and was immediately a fan. He defeated Roger Federer in an epic semi-final and the went on to beat the fan favourite Australian Lleyton Hewitt in another fabulous match. I'd finally found a tennis player to support.

It all went downhill from there. Plagued by injury and a lack of self belief, Safin hardly ever made it past the initial rounds of most tournaments after that. I gave up watching tennis too. Roger Federer was too boring and I didn't really like Nadal. Fast forward to a couple of days back, and I see a news article that said that Safin was through to the third round of Wimbledon having beaten Novak Djokovic. That got me excited, I made every attempt to get the time for his third round match. A prolonged search got me a time of 6:30 PM IST, yesterday. But then, one must not forget that Wimbledon is in Great Britain. Thanks to the weather, the match only started around 11 PM IST. To cut a long story short, he won. What excites me is that last night (I stayed up to 2 AM, watching him win) he was the vintage Safin. There was a little bit of everything that makes Marat Safin what he is. There was a racquet thrown, frequent yelling, multiple expressions of disbelief at how he'd been cheated by providence over one shot or the other. Coming up to the what had to be the last game (he only had to hold serve), him leading 7-6, 3-6, 7-6, 5-4, the crowd was going crazy. There was a spectacular Mexican wave that went around Court 1 thrice before he could even start his serve. And then, just to prove that this was of course, the ever erratic Marat Safin, he went on to trail 15-40. Everybody (me included) must have groaned inwardly at this juncture. Could he blow it all? Having done all the hard work, would he stumble now? And he didn't. The crowd went beserk as he took victory from an increasingly panic stricken Andreas Seppi.

Safin is quite the fan favourite. The spectators gathered at court 1 braved chilling weather, seated till after 9 PM local time, to see another Safin epic, and they were rewarded. Safin was gracious enough to sign a multitude of autographs after the gruelling three hour match, and left the court to loud cheers from the spectators. What is it about this Russian that makes him such a favourite with the fans? To be really honest, I think Safin's rollercoaster career appeals to this feeling we all have inside us. The tragedy of unfulfilled genius. Safin embodies that unfulfilled genius. That's why, his win is our win, his loss is our loss, his heartbreak is ours and his jubilation is ours too.

One of the commentators said something about destiny. If ever Safin was supposed to win Wimbledon, it had to be now. Can he win? Of course, when he's mentally fit, it doesn't matter who the opponent is. It just doesn't. He can steamroll the best into submission. Will he? That's another matter altogether, for Marat Safin always plays with a handicap. Only one man is trying to defeat his opponent. Safin. However, two men are trying to defeat Safin. His opponent and - Safin himself. I'm sure there are millions of fans worldwide who'd like to see him overcome himself in the coming days. If he can do that, I truly, from the bottom of my heart feel sorry for his opponents.

Like another commentator said, "It's ridiculous really, that a man of such prodigious talent last won a grand slam at the Australian open three years ago."