FOUR HOURS AND FOUR SCORE YEARS! VOL 2

12:00 noon

-------Pappi Enters-----

And all my good feelings about women took a hike.

For those of you wanting to know about Pappi....I'm sorry, I don't wish glorify her with a space in the blogosphere. Neither she ( she is wretched), the blogosphere( too sacred) nor me (sheer waste of time) deserve it. This may disappoint you but Pareto would die all over again if I wrote about her on the same page.

Einstein had definitely said something about a beautiful woman and a hot pan. The hot pan was dealt with the last time out. So let us stick to the woman (figuratively, of course) this time around. People contend that Time and Destiny are two hands of a scissor, that is, they operate only together. To those I generally put the question….What is Time and Destiny?? From what little consensus I obtained I foraged the following answers: Time is how the day proceeds…Destiny is the set of predetermined events that occur at various points in Time. I find these unsatisfactory though being a sceptic I am bound or destined, you can say, to find them so. Maybe that is why many people are not punctual.....they just don’t understand Time. I prefer to call these twin hands” Titiny” and the events below took place a couple of weeks ago.

The few weeks before the mid-semester break were a severe test of human(even my) patience. The conjunctivitis outbreak had made life hell. With people falling victim everyday I was soon surrounded by a group of spectacled, red-eyed youth out to give everyone a taste (or sight) of this dreaded disease.

Note: I refuse to address this disease by the name “eye-flu”...For reasons unknown the influenza virus has been named the perpetrator for this menace though it is not....The influenza virus affects the mucus membrane and so it is difficult to “see” why this ailment of the eye acquired this name.

Eyes averted, I ducked and squeezed through the interminable weeks or years (no idea about the time) with the hope of a clear- sighted stay at home. Friends prophesied that I cannot escape Titiny and that it would get me too. But I had the last laugh as I trundled away into the break unscathed.
-----16:00(by my watch)-------
My journey home never fails to reveal to me the size of India. It takes a colossal forty hours and two trains to travel from the north to the south of India. I have to take a train to New Delhi from where I take the Tamil Nadu Express a couple of hours later. Mother India cradles in her bosom over a billion people. This hit me as soon as I entered my train at Saharanpur. The train, on its way from Dehradun/Haridwar, had picked a really motley group of passengers. Sadhus, Devotees, Pilgrims, office-goers, children, students and hawkers et al. occupied the small compartment. Over 200 people were present where 72 should have been...and that, of course, is the story of our country. Somehow, or as Ravi (who was travelling with me) would contend, Titiny helped us find a seat. Also present

in the coupé were an old Sadhu(a relic washed ashore by the Ganges), a couple of railway employees busy in their game of cards and an old general-type(Sam Manekshaw look-alike). Time acquired wings as Uncle Sam and one of the rail guys regaled us with an exciting argument on Brain Drain. Relic-the-Sadhu was captivated by something off in the distance.
-----17:30--------
Muzaffarnagar......A routine two minute stop ....A full half-hour went by. I felt the first stirrings of unease. A Half hour meant only one thing...no time for Dinner!! As the train left I caught a nap for a few minutes (or so I thought)....a profusion of noises breached the curtain of my sleep....I blearily glanced at my watch.
------19:00-----
Meerut City Station, a 10 minute stop. I got out for a breath of fresh air but was instead assailed by the pungent odours of filth. I braved on towards a group of paan-chewing, loud-mouthed men in deep deliberation...Titiny was about to shake me up.....From the garrulous men I gathered that train was to stop there for 45 minutes and the train would not go to Delhi as the Yamuna was in spate. The unease became anxiety that started to perspire down my skin.Maybe Titiny was a force.Maybe the heavens were conspiring.
---20:30-----
Two hours to left to catch the other train. We may just make it. The Sadhu broke out of his reverie to ask where the train was headed. So I asked him in turn as to where he wanted to go and he said...”Where ever the train goes”. Stupifies I mumbled out Bombay. Such pedestrian issues as destination, tickets and reservation it seemed were below this ascetic.

---21:15----
Sahibabad....Uncle Sam, who lived there, guided us out of the station and into an auto. We were off safely to the first metro station. The auto had barely moved when it got caught up at the tail of a pretty long jam. Much to Sam’s consternation we abandoned the auto and set out on foot. A kilometre and a half trek through the worst dust blown traffic and the U.P. border (might have as well been the Indian border for its hostility). Drenched in sweat and caked in dust we made it to the station. It was….
---21:45---
On the metro ….Eyes closed I willed the train to go faster and the Time to go slower. I felt Titiny breathing on my neck whispering cunningly. Startled, I opened my eyes to find that it was only a guy sharing his near death experience (Ah, the human need to communicate)…I solemnly continued my silent prayers. We had to change metro trains too.
---22:10---
20 minutes to go and no train in sight. A series of winding runs through the metro station had drenched my dress to the full. Add that to the anxiety ....a lethal cocktail of sweat (and maybe some tears at the end). I paced along the platform like an expectant father waiting for his train to emerge from the tunnel. Every minute I waited was but a second in my head.
---22:21---
The baby arrived. I started the final countdown (yeah, the background score was playing away in my head)
367 seconds later….
---22:28---
New Delhi Railway Station…..A sweeter sight I had never seen. We made a mad dash to the platform.
--22:30---
The Indian Railways (aided by Titiny) showed their punctuality now and the train kicked off on time. We ran like raving maniacs and tossed the luggage onto the running train. A couple of helping hands dragged us onto the train. I could have sworn I had felt Titiny tug me back by the collar. I looked down to see both my feet in the train(Sigh). I took my first full breath in hours. Overcome by the effort…I found my berth, set the luggage and slept like a baby.
---The Following Morning----
The exciting events of the previous night began to sink in the moment I got up. I felt triumphant, ecstatic even. I had fought with Titiny and come off the better. I had met her in her battlefield and staved her off like a great Spartan Warrior!!Hahaha!!(evil laughter rang through my head). What a moment it was, ephemeral though it turned out to be. As I got up gleefully like a satisfied kitten to brush my teeth I was greeted in the mirror by a sweat-streaked, disheveled guy with red and puffy as tomatoes….OH No!! Conjuctivitis!!The Eye-Flu!!Oh Titiny!!

FOUR HOURS AND FOUR SCORE YEARS! VOL 1

Einstein once said(or did he????) " It's all relative, my friend". Well, he gets my stamp of approval. Class hours give us a long time, relatively , to let go of our mind.Four hours seems a long time when you cast yearning glances at your watch every five minutes. Classes serve us with some valuable time for introspection and reflection. The mind wanders to places unheard of and (in)sights unseen. Although most thoughts invariably start and end on women there do occur a few fruitful periods of grey cell activity.
The week started with Wednesday morning blues( The first two days were a blur. I dont remember anything).I was feeling high. Not on dope or anything, Just on high moral ground. I looked around the class. A lot of lolling heads. Long nights and Ramu, first thing in the morning serve to put even isomniacs like us to sleep.That and the eternal fear of eye contact with the teacher leading to subsequent questions serves to ensure that the only place you want to look is down. Then, BANG!! PARETO...The name just popped into my head. The next half hour whizzed by as I spent it trying to put a face/book/subject to that name.
Aha..Pareto Charts!! The famous 80-20 rule.... I had revered the guy a couple years back while doing the TQM course. Well, Time does heal all the wounds of education. I tried to think up more but my mind returned a blank.
9:55 am
----Break------
I wikied(if i am the first person to use this then I claim the copyright) him and Voilà...I could put a face to the name now after all.
A bit about the great man now. Born in the city of love, Paris, in 1848, this Italian boy was your typical French bourgeois. As the revolution gathered steam around him Vilfredo received education at all the right places and played all the "in" ( he was an engineer,"in" now.."in" then)cards of the time to end up as a Professor in Switzerland in 1906 where he proposed his famous 80-20 rule which stated that twenty percent of the population owned eighty percent of the property in Italy at that time.
10:00 am
---Break Over---
Sups Time...An hour of cat and mouse. Sups is your typical dreaded know-it-all professor who revels in his ability to ask unanswerable questions and basks in the glory of his knowledge. Of course, his job is made easy by our total ignorance. The position of the head and eyes in Sups' class are a matter of great importance. Too low ...the question comes ......Eye contact with your friend....question time......head held too high and eye contact...Boy, you must be brave. An hour of misery.
11:00 am
----enough already-----
Pareto came back with a vengence. I realised that the reason I had come to think of him in the first place was Guruji. His unerring concentration serves to appease the teacher and thus saves the other students the misery.Thats your 20 and people like me form the 80. Wikipedia says that the "80-20" should be applied with caution. But, Bring 'em on, I say, it holds true almost everywhere. For example,

1. less than 20% of the girls account for more than 80% of the beauty in the world.
2. 20% of the population(politicians,corporates, celebrities) controls 80% of the country.
3. 20% of all footballers make the teams what they are.
4. 20% of all people determine how rich this country is.(people still die of hunger here)

Well, you get the hang of it....

Hardly would Vilfredo have thought that his rule would be used so callously by reverent fools, but hey, life is not fair ...and 0.20% like me and my TQM professor are the only ones who think about him.

11:30 am

-----Pareto put to Rest------

The next 15 minutes were an unitelligible mish mash of thoughts and images. After spinning around like a wayward compass they came to rest, and quite inevitably so, on women. But my mind had been on social issues( high moral ground, remember). Well, I had previously read of a 1999 Italian court verdict declaring that a woman wearing tight jeans cannot be raped, as the garment in question cannot be removed without the lady's consent. A bucketload of BULL!! So, exploitation and discrimiation are not home to this country alone,huh?But then what else can we expect from a super-masochist country like Italia??(no wonder their football sucks). I thought of India, women, empowerment, liberalism, feminism and saw nothing but a dead end

----on hindsight-----

Sometimes my heart goes out to the members of the fairer sex. They bear the brunt of the worst forms of exploitation in this world. In India, it starts from their homes, travels with them to their workplaces where it rears its ugly head again. A word, a gesture, a touch, an act or a look or a few looks(unwanted attention, as the IPC calls it) are enough to serve the purpose. Even hydra would have fewer heads than this monster. Life must be a living nightmare for the women of this country, I fear and God forbid, if you are beautiful ,then I can only guess. If women lay the blame squarely at the dorstep of us men, I would accept it without a word of protest for the choice of our actions were made consciously by us. But still, Unfair though it may seem, part of the blame lies with the women. I had italicised bear earlier to make a point. It shows the attitude of our women. If you want to bear or be exploited then no one can help you. Only if you are willing to raise your voice(most times,literally... I am sure it will help) against the injustices done to you can you acheive all those fancy terms that you dole at will. I can recount at least two cases where I had intervened when women were being ...how to put it delicately......touched, shall we say, in buses. The women in question chose to stand and take it while they had a choice. Hence I feel that they deserve the blame I lay at their doors.

But, hats off to you women in general...Most times you are far better than us.....

And Pareto is wrong here....20% of the women make their choice to live life by exploitation...but they do not sully my opinion of the remaining 80%

12:00 noon

-------Pappi Enters-----

And all my good feelings about women took a hike.

To be Contd........More on Pappi, Probability and the first family...