Fear

"Have you seen Real fear in someone's eyes?" he asked me. "Real terror, fear of death, nor your ordinary, help-me-god fear."
I was travelling on a flight back home, with the latest Grisham in my hands. I had first seen him at the security check. He looked quite out of place, with his old fashioned tweed coat, and a brown leather suitcase. With his hennaed beard, and the thick glass spectacles on his nose, he strangely appeared quite self assured, a person who had seen the world. I had figured him out as a talkative type, and when he came and sat down next to me, I buried my nose in the book, trying to appear as asocial as possible.

"A look like that can change your life for ever." I silently wondered why I always get such talkative people as my co-passengers. Why do people of his age think that have figured out the world, and why do they want to bore other people with their theories? But I remained silent, in deference to his age.

"Let me tell you a story. A story of an experience, which changed me for ever." I realised that this was going to be a long one, so I ruefully closed the book. I was in half a mind to hit him on his bald scalp, with the thick volume.

"Some time has passed since this happened. It was a sleepy Sunday afternoon. The sun was high up in the sky, and the air was warm. Too warm infact. It was the kind of heat, in which even flies do not fly around, eating rotting flesh. I was on a village road, happily riding my 1953 Royal Enfield. The warm air felt like warm sand running on my skin. Not that it mattered. I had no care in the world, no deadline to meet, and petrol was not a problem.
There was not a soul on the road. Who would venture out in this mindless heat? Most people were sensibly enjoying their siesta.

This is when I saw a dark figure in the distance. I thought it could be a mirage. As I went further, the figure split into two, and I could make out two women trying to cross the road. Both of them crossed, and then one figure went back to middle of the road and stooped. I was approaching that spot, so I honked to warn her. The one at the side of the road looked at me, but the one in the centre, wasn't even aware of my existence. I honked once again.

She pulled herself up to her full height and began to look for the source of the honking, first in the wrong direction. Finally she saw me. I motioned her to cross quickly. I was hardly 15 m from her. But she saw me approaching on this huge motor cycle, and she froze. Like a deer in the headlights. She moved neither backwards, nor forward. She stood motionless, in the centre of that narrow road.
I realised that it was too late to change course, and I slammed the brakes hard. I could see that I was heeded directly towards her. I stood on the breaks to apply even more pressure. By now, I could look into her eyes. That is what we were doing. I was looking in her eyes, while she was looking in mine. I saw a look of sheer terror in her eyes. I didn't know what was going on in her mind. Was her life flashing before her? Or was she remembering her loved ones? I don't know. Her face had contorted into a disgusting scowl. It was a strange cross between biting one’s lips, and an open, gaping mouth.

I suddenly thought of skidding the bike to avoid her, but since I was within a few feet of her, it wouldn't have helped. Thankfully I felt the bike slowing down. I heaved a sign of relief, as I stopped within 6 inches of her dainty toes. The strange look on her face evaporated. Before I could even say anything, she jumped and joined the other woman.

I was too affected to follow her or talk to her. For a moment, through our eyes, we had spoken to each other. I don't know in which language. But for a few moments, my soul knew what hers was feeling. I had felt the very same fear that she was feeling. It was one of those threads of humanity that goes through each one of us. It is at times like this, that they come to our rescue. That is our Insaniyat, the things that make us human."

I took a deep breath, and opened my mouth. "Son, I am 73 years old, you must be in your twenties. Don't think you have seen the world, till you really have seen the world. And never ever keep me away from my Grisham. One more thing: don’t go bald for style. You will miss your hair, when you are of my age."

Infra Red Photography

I have the most boring paper tomorrow, and hence my mind is easily being distracted. A Few days back, I was surfing Orkut, (i.e. checking out random profiles) and I found this community for Infra Red Photography. I checked it out, and it had every thing, except anything on IR photography. The absence of anything worthwhile, planted a seed in my Brain. I had to find more about it.

I already know a few things about Infra red light and photography.

• Firstly, most CCD sensors can record IR light, but the lenses have special coatings, or special filters are used, to prevent the Camera from seeing this, for two reasons: You can see thru people's clothes using IR, and the IR light can totally mess up the 'in camera' calibrations.
• Secondly, Shooting in the Near Infra Red band can have its advantages. This is from Remote sensing that I have been studying. Water appears dark in the IR band, while Vegetation appears bright. This forms the basis of mapping out vegetation using Remote sensing data.
  

In my search, I came to know that the IR blocking filter is present only in the recent models. Now my camera is around 430 camera-years old, since I have been using it for the 5^th year running, so in no way can it be called recent. Maybe I can after all do some Infra Red photography with it. I figured that since I was not going to study, I might as well do something constructive.

Firstly I checked whether my camera can see IR. This was achieved by using the most important invention ever manufactured, the humble TV remote control. The L.e.d. in the front gives out signals in IR, and hence can be used as an IR-only source. (Check it out. You should not be able to see the l.e.d. giving out light, when you hold it in front of your eyes)

Here is how the pulse appears to the naked eye


Here is how it appears to the Camera. (You can see a bright light emanating from the led)


Secondly I had to make a filter, which cut of the visible light, and allowed only IR to pass. I googled around, and found that you can use unexposed developed film, to make an IR pass filter.
So I searched high and low for some film of this kind, and finally found some.



On placing 2 layers in front of the lens, this is how the remote control signal appears.


Finally, after I figured out that it would work, I had to make a filter out of the film. I'll spare you the details, and just show you how it looks.

Now I can just attach this to my camera lens, and am good to go.

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So I present to you, the World through IR light:

Here is how a Tungsten Bulb looks like:

Look at these flowers

In IR


Or these


In IR:

You will realise that what happens is, that the flowers, reflect very little IR, while the green leaves reflect a lot. Also the twigs, and the dry parts, that are in direct sunlight, reflect light throughout the spectrum, as can be seen in the normal as well as IR photographs


Now look at this place. Notice the white marble, the grass, as well as soil that can be seen.



When you see them in IR, you see that the marble reflects very little IR, while the Grass and Soil is almost indistinguishable.


Finally, the pièce de résistance:
You can see a variety of Objects in this Picture: Water in the swimming pool, the grass, trees, buildings, sunlight being reflected from glass...



Now look at them in IR

Whooo!
What they have been teaching us in Remote sensing is true...


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A note: I have a paper on Image Interpretation tomorrow. It deals with looking at satellite images, and then inferring from them what is on the ground. You can find out, not only whether it is agriculture or Forests, you can also tell which type of forest it is. If you are really experienced and skilled, you can even say what specie of tree it is. I am too bored to study it, and thought an experimental approach would help me get more marks. Let’s see whether this turns out to be true.
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P.S. This not meant to be an artistic post. It is to satisfy my geeky urges. And if you don't think, that making something on your own, finding new things, and using things in a way they are not intended to be, you are not a geek of my type. And if you haven't experienced the joy of seeing the theory working out in practice, I pity you. It’s one of the most beautiful things in the world.

Teri Yaad Aati Hai

I have been an Adnan Sami fan, ever since I heard his voice along with Asha Bhosle in 'kabhi to nazar milao'. The same album contained his 'Lift Karade' which I totally loved. Here was this round, fat guy, who was having fun, could sing well, and laugh at himself. Why He even made fun of himself in the remix of that song.

Soon songs came and songs went. Every bollywood heroine, wanted to feature in his songs, and I really didn't mind. His songs were as beautiful as ever.

In the Middle of 2006, he went into hiding. Maybe a month back, we heard that he was exercising and losing some weight. We said, 'good for him'.

A week back I heard he was back. Back with a new song, as well as a new waist line; look at him at the Miss India contest:

Apparently the man now weighs 97 kilos and looks pretty happy with this achievement. Not only was he looking slimmer and trimmer last night but also appeared to be in a peppy, naughty mood while interacting with the contestants.

When I saw his new song, I was floored. Not only is it a beautiful song, but it struck a chord.

Have you guessed why it touched a chord?

Well coz it features SXC.

He reminisces about a woman whom he loved and grief over losing her just after professing his love for her, But for me it's something totally different. I left Xavier’s just when I was having the most fun. It's like just when I was having the most fun, I had to stop. So the "Teri Yaad aati hai' is for college, and the fun we had there.

On a related note, you will see that they have made the first quadrangle, look like some European cafe or something. Actually the first Quad has always reminded me of Venice’s Piazza San Marco

Why? The library building clearly is influenced by Doge's Palace

Don't believe me?

Well, look at St Mark's square in a 360 degree panorama: http://www.italyguides.it/us/venice_italy/doge_s_palace/doge_s_palace.htm

Now come back and look at some pics of the Library Building

and

Now what do you think?

I first got this image when I saw the first Quad flooded in 2003, when I had come on a rainy day.

From Wikipedia: The Piazza San Marco is the lowest point in Venice, and as a result during the Acqua Alta the "high water" from storm surges from the Adriatic, or even heavy rain, it is the first to flood. Water pouring into the drains in the Piazza runs directly into the Grand Canal. This is ideal during heavy rain, but during the acqua alta it has the reverse effect, with water from the canal surging up into the Square.

Namesake: The Movie Review

About a year back I had read the novel, and had reviewed it: The Namesake

When I heard that they are making a movie on it, I was worried. The book is so beautiful, with characters sketched in details, lovely scenes, subtle references ect. How would Mira Nair cram all of this in two hours? I waited with bated breath.
Slowly the marketing hype began to be built around it. Mira Nair and Tabu even came on Koffee with Karan. It was left to be seen whether the movie would justify the hype.


So how exactly is the movie? Not too impressive. Let me elaborate.

The Good:
The movie has Tabu as Ashima, a role which she pulls off with ease. You can imagine her as the lonely woman who does not want to raise her son in this foreign country, or as the woman who tries the prospective groom's shoes before she accepts him. When you see her suddenly start singing, embarrassing her children in the process, you can see your mother in her.

Irfan as Ashok Ganguli, is perfect, with his diction, his mannerism or even the way he talks to his son.

Zuleikha Robinson is exactly what I had pictured Moushami to be. She looks just like the shallow, confused, hot slut that I had pictured her as, after reading the book.

The Bad:

Kal Penn is definitely the weak link here. He definitely has talent; he not just Kumar or the secretary of the Party liaison, but he is dwarfed by Irfan and Tabu. Or maybe it's the director's fault that his character's growth is not shown properly. His sister, as well as Maxine make just guest appearances, a far cry from the pivotal roles they play in Gogol's life.


The Ugly

The blame without a doubt, lies with Mira Nair. She has been faithful to the story, taking small scenes from the book, and bringing them out wonderfully on the screen. She brings out the subtleties like the expressions on Ashima's face when Maxine calls her by her first name. Or the small fights between the siblings and so on.

Where she fails, is in properly sketching out the characters. There are about 2 scenes describing Gogol's angst against his name, before he decides to change it. Or that the interaction between Gogol and Moushami is almost nonexistent, before they marry. On seeing the scene where they have their first date, you feel that he is attracted to her only sexually, which is not the case. Or that you almost don't know the sister. I could name a thousand different things which bothered me. The movie seems to lack continuity, and seems patchy.

Another problem, is that there are several jarring scenes. Take the weeding night scene. I really don't see why you have to have them dance on Hindi film music or mouth clichéd dialogues. Or take Ashima's speech in the end. How in the name of god does she come up with that kind of language? It just seems so out of place.



Ok I think I am being rather unfair to the movie; No movie can capture the soul of a book...
Wait... Peter Jackson did.

Poignant Point

After the recent SSC paper leak in Maharashtra, a lot of vernacular newsprint has been wasted on the issue. As expected, Nothing constructive, or original appeared...till today.

My grandfather saw this reader's letter and read it out to me on the breakfast table. Let me summarize what the wise man wrote to the newspaper:

It is indeed sad that some students had to resort to cheating in the exams; But if you think about it, almost everyone copies. Some copy from chits, while others copy from their friends. Meanwhile the Toppers, copy from their memory.

I can bet that this point will be lost, on the majority of the readers.

Love lost: An allegorical tale

Their first meeting, was totally unexpected. He was with his friend, while she was with hers, amongst thousands of people on a January morning. That cool winter morning, running along with entire Mumbai, along Marine drive, he didn't feel strange to stare at her. When their eyes first met across the road divider, he was stunned. He hadn't seen such beautiful eyes before. It didn't matter that she was soaked with sweat, for so was he. It didn't matter that her hair was messed up, coz no one can have beautiful hair in such a situation. She had a beauty, which shown thru all of that, and he himself was surprised to be attracted to her physically, when all along he called himself an intellectual creature.



He felt a surge of energy, felt more alive then ever before, and began to run faster, so that he could catch up with her. Running so fast made his friend breathless, but it hardly mattered; he had to meet her. When he reached closer, by some strange twist of fate, which god had planned all along, his friend recognised hers. Soon they were chatting, which was hard to do, when you have got to run 13 miles. So began that unlikely bond. By the time the foursome reached the finish line, he knew he had found 'the one'. Our crocodile hunter had found his Terri.



That race turned into lunch, lunch gave rise to coffee several days later, which grew into daily encounters. Meeting her totally changed him. He began to dress well, turned into an extrovert, he began to be concerned about his appearance, and he became more cheerful, confident, and so on. Most of people around him recognised the change, and wondered about its source.



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Well it didn't entirely change him. He was still afraid, very afraid. He never got the guts to tell her how he felt. He preferred to remain alone, rather than experience something new, which could hurt him. It didn't help when he told himself, that just because some other girl had hurt him years ago, this one would too.

Looking back at this, all of that felt like a joke. Did he really love her? Then why couldn't he muster the strength to tell her. This probably meant that he didn't love her, he told himself. It was just too difficult to accept that fear was stronger than love, especially when all love stories said that love conquers all, especially fear.


So had all this been a dream? The evenings at Kala Ghoda, the dinners at Leo's, the walks on the beach, the waiting on the platform, those conversations over cutting chai? What was all of that? He remembered being happy, having fun. Really, what was all that? It was too late now...She was leaving for the U.S. 'Who goes to the U.S. nowadays?’ he asked himself, 'especially when everything is available here?' He conveniently forgot that the root cause of cynicism is usually jealousy.


What about the fantasies of growing old with her? Of seeing the world together? They had a lot in common, and that is why he was drawn to her in the first place. He had enjoyed doing these kinds of things with her over the past few months, and had hoped to do so throughout his life. All those fantasies were now lying in the wastebasket of time.


~~~~~~~~~~~~
He met her that last one time, to say his final goodbyes. He had been telling himself over that last few days that he would be better off without her, but he didn't believe that lie, one bit. But it was too little, too late. He still couldn't muster that mythical strength, to confess his love. 'She probably doesn't love me, for if she did, she would have said something’ the coward within him was saying. He approached her with fear in his eyes, and hugged her one last time. As she crossed over into the departure lounge, he thought he saw sadness in her eyes. Something died within him that day.


P.s. This is an allegory, and any conclusion you draw from it, is a reflection of your mental state