This and that, Just like that

I am amazed. I really have no clue as to how time flies. Even before I figure out how the day seamlessly vanishes into the night and night into day, weeks have gone by already. It's maddening - to race against time to meet deadlines. And life has its own way of springing surprises - new deadlines adding half-way through while meeting the original ones. Phew!

The mind can get crazy at times. You know you've got very little time on hand yet you choose to time-out - cook an elaborate lunch instead of a quick one or watch Rajiv Gandhi's biography online leisurely or even go for a 3D animation flick at ten in the night after a long day in the lab. But it works. You're mind is off all kinds of pressures for sometime and it's super fun having those 3D goggles on. For one, you've never seen objects flying out of movie screens before and hitting you straight on your face. And the other, you haven't ever worn go-go glasses all your life, leave alone 3D ones.

It's miraculous though. - how these guys come up with such marvellous graphics. Especially considering that Computer Graphics wasn't my cup of tea at undergrad - I barely managed to scrape through the course. Sometimes it takes a significant genius in one to do anything innovative. I was listening to instrumental renditions of Hindi songs on YouTube the other day. Songs as distinct as Kajra Re on the piano. Brilliant stuff! Amazing talent in folks who probably deserve more than an Oscar. Or at least some opportunity to cash in on their talent. For Oscar is too big a thing and Jagjit Singh doesn't think that even Rahman deserves one!

I've always liked Jagjit Singh's mellifuous voice though. Its richness is unique - makes you feel an instant connection to it. Sometimes such connections are instinctive and deep. And strangely at times, they can be negative too. Like the way I have a certain repulsion towards the South Indian actor Prakash Raj or his Bollywood equivalent - Irrfan Khan. Both are great actors and literally live the roles they play. But somehow I can never sit through any of their movies till the end. Odd. But true. Was planning to watch Billubarber for dinner. No prizes for guessing if I 'll be able to take in at least the first ten scenes. Damn! It's back to work then!

Moving On..

Been a quarter of a year since I last wrote. The last four months have been mixed - mad rush for grades at the semester end and a long holiday to India. All that seems to be ages ago already. For the past one month here back in Boulder, things have been uninteresting. Strong winds blowing at 50 mph can torment you even on a ten-minute walk to school. You have fallen ill and so has everyone around you - at work or home or school or even on the telephone. The influenza outbreak is across the States. And most importantly, it's not so good to be close to your graduation date- especially now. I was warned of home sickness the first time I came to the US nearly a year and a half back. I have come to understand that only the second time I am here. Strange. Whatever.

My next two months are very tight - I barely get the time to marvel at the Rockies. The farthest ones are snow-capped now. The rows in front are mostly gray and green. I managed to watch the Oscars live nonetheless. Rahman is now more than a living legend. Resul Pookutty and Gulzar are two others making India proud. Nice. I choose not to talk about the ultimate winner of the Academy Awards though. Have watched Slumdog - liked it for some elements in it. But no more hype about it - either positive or negative. Period.

My roomie was watching a Japanese musical the other day. A western-classical-music- based plot. Ended up listening to Schubert, Mozart and Beethoven after eons but while capturing IP packets on Ethereal software for my lab report. I wonder if I would have been an engineer if I were given a chance to relive the last fifteen years of my life. Probably not. But may be chances of becoming a future music major are not that bleak. I know not. For now, I will go back to my Capstone work and play Schumann in the background.

Seasons

The Fall in Boulder is only for a short while. The trees are not the usual green. There are reds, yellows, mauves, oranges and lilacs all around. There are lustrous bunches of table roses and marigolds on the streets. The campus makes a pretty sight of striking contrasts - the sloping, multileved roofs with red tiles/sandstone bricks and the vast stretches of lush greenery of the lawns.

The weather is unimaginably welcoming for anything. You can enjoy your walk to school or by your apartment pool or on the US-36 on your way to work. It's a blessing to have the warmth of the sun's rays. You don't need to stuff yourself with too much clothing. A casual pair of trousers or shorts or a lovely skirt is just fine to suit the weather. You would love to be outdoors. You would love to see the squirrels trot around and indulge in a bit of hide-and-seek with them. The Creek nearby that has water flowing right from the mountain top is a brilliant place to sit by and have interesting tete-a-tetes with folks.

Such pleasures and privileges aren't forever though. It was dark and foggy today. The thick, dark clouds obstructed the mountain view. It was actually snowing on the mountains. Snow, for us, on the foothills has been predicted within the next two days. The ground was wet because of dew. And suddenly, there was something missing. Something different. The trees. Their colorful leaves had gone. Their barren trunks stood stark against a hazy sky. But the stiffening cold outside ain't that bad when you cuddle up in your couch with a book in hand and indulge in a lot of garam chai. The Kashmiri one with a lot of cardamom is more soothing. And did I say you would love to stay indoors. B'cause it's winter here.

Long Weekend! Go! Go!

Train to Silverton

Silverton - Crossing the river: Preetha and I

Cliff Dwelling

Maroon Bells

Black Canyon

The long weekend last week was much awaited. A road trip to the south of Colorado - for some scenic views, wild-forest camping and a couple of hikes. After much dilly-dallying, we decided to just go. All of us - a group of seven.

Thursday did not exactly turn out to be a short day at work. I worked as usual and hurried back home to catch up on my sleep. We were going to start the same night. Some haphazard packing of clothes, water and food, and we were already on our way past the Great Sand Dunes in the South. It was a new-moon night: the sky looked blurry and everything outside was dark and lonely. I frequently imagined a UFO shooting through the sky followed by an alien abduction of our seven-seater Dodge Grand Caravan. It wouldn't be difficult to spot a minivan inching its way through the long roads amidst vast stretches of deserted land.

Dawn broke soon and we almost reached Durango, a large town in south-west Colorado, surrounded by the San Juan Mountains in the north, arid deserts of Utah in the west and the San Juan National Forest in the south. The plan was to take a ride on a coal-fired, steam-powered train to the coal-mining town of Silverton through the picturesque parts of the San Juan National Forest. The train journey turned out to be a bit of a drag - took seven long hours two-and-fro. Silverton was a poky, little town that wore a contrived, historic look of the late nineteenth century. We chose to have lunch along the riverside - a saving grace for the painstaking travel to Silverton.

Evening was much more fun with our stop at the Mesa Verde National Forest for camping. A cozy, little tent put up with bonfire closeby, it was an amazing camping experience for us. While part of the group cuddled up in the tent to sleep, I chose to sleep under the gaze of the starry sky, along with some others. The forest was, however, scarily quiet and strikingly dark. We were warned of black bears that were abundant in the wild forest. So even a slight rustling of the leaves would startle us out of our sleep. Then we could hear the haunting wail of the foxes high up the mountains. The next day was spent in hiking up to the ancient cliff dwellings of the native Anasazi civilisation at the Mesa Verde National Park. The archaeological sites were a mysterious collection of the kivas or the ceremonial houses, one-room berths and herds of villages of the Puebloan society around 600 AD.

Ouray was our next destination for the night. It was an idyllic mountain town with cascading waterfalls and natural hot springs. Lying at the narrow mouth of a valley and towered by the snow-capped Rockies on three sides, Ouray has been nicknamed as the "Switzerland of America". The town did seem to live up to its title, although I haven't an idea about what the real Switzerland or Swiss Alps are like. We camped that night in Ouray.

The next morning was spent at the Box Canon Falls Park. A nature's marvel, the fall was formed when the gushing waters of the Canyon Creek cut through a deep , narrow boxed canyon of eroding limestone slabs. Canyons are formed when river waters cut through soft sedimentary rocks. One such rugged and steep canyon formed by the erosion of the Gunnison river in the south was the Black Canyon. We stopped at several view-points to click the mighty dark canyon walls. The gorges reached a depth of more than 2,000 feet and were less than 1,500 ft. in breadth, blocking most part of the sunlight. Hence, the name 'Black Canyon'.

Our final destination was the Maroon Bells. Surrounded by the pristine National Forest lands, these were supposedly the most picturesque peaks of all in North America. The glacial valleys are splendid with fourteen-ers (14,000-foot peaks) widely spread across. The highlight of the view is that the Maroon Lake mirrors spectacular images of the mountains in its waters.

The feeling was indescribable. We could not just stop marvelling at nature's bounty. And did we hear that there was heaven on earth?!

On Top of the World

Bear Peak Mountain

The last section of the trek

Almost there

The past few days have seen some outrageous events: work overtime through the week at office, slog it out to get inside the enclosed Engineering building for labwork on a Saturday afternoon, move routers from one end of the lab to another and to top it all, trek to the Bear Peak mountain.

It's a lazy Sunday morning. My cell phone blares into my ears disturbing my sleep. My pal on the other end asks if I'm up and ready to go. Even before I completely wake up from my sleep, he quickly adds that there is a bus that we need to catch in just ten minutes.

Grabbing two large bananas and skipping my daily breakfast of a bowl full of cereals, I rush to the stop with my pals. We are a group of five, of which only one is a professional trekker. Situated along the foothills of the Front Range of the Rockies, Bear Peak is one of the most difficult mountains to hike. The total length of the hike is seven miles with an altitude gain of 2500 ft. (Boulder being at an elevation of 6000 ft. above sea-level).

The hike begins along the Mesa trail, located above the Table Mesa Drive, close to the NCAR(National Centre for Atmospheric Research). The hike along the Mesa Trail is short. The ground is even and the mountains look more gigantic and exotic than ever. At the end of the Mesa trail, lies a large fresh-water mountain stream. Boulder locals usually take their pets on hikes and the stream is a great source of respite for the panting animals.

The actual hike starts at the Bear Canyon cut-off, which follows the Mesa trail. It is a long trail that meanders back and forth between large sandstone slabs, and high up through grassy meadows with small groves of Aspens. There is gentle breeze along the way and higher up the trail, the adjacent and smaller Green Mountain appears through the groves.

The final section of the trek up to Bear Peak is extremely steep. It consists of hiking up a pile of huge boulders, magically balanced one on top of another. It is a battle for us to reach the top: figuring out and jumping across the hard rocks that can give us a firm foothold. The whole effort is worth the 360 degree view of the region at the top. Truly, a visual delight. We spot our University campus - a red patch lying beyond the Broadway. The Engineering building is the tallest on campus and the most noticeable from the mountain top.

Probably this is what is "being on top of the world".

Back on track

It's just plain co-incidence that I get back to writing now-exactly three years since my last post in 2005. It surprises me largely as to how time has rolled by. Life has moved on swiftly and significantly. And I realize I owe a lot to my writing, this blog and the Internet - they opened up new avenues of expression/escape/contacts.

I have never liked my own writing style or any of my previous posts for that matter. However, the overwhelming joy in being complimented (both online and offline) for my posts hastens me to blog again. No, I still do not like my posts. But I choose to write.

It probably runs in the family-to push oneself too hard to do things with a sense of perfection. But then, life has so much to offer that it is tough to capture moments perfectly. It would probably take me a thousand lifetimes to write as brilliantly as some of the moments of my life in the last three years-moments of Yahoo/post-engineeering/ Boulder/Rochester/Cingular.

I attempt at one-my daily early-morning ritual of having cereals on the couch in the hall. The street outside is dark and quiet. The forecast has promised sunshine for the day. I patiently wait for my favorite view through the sliding window in the hall. The sun's rays get brighter by the minute silhouetting the gigantic Rockies against the rising sun. I take a deep breath as the enormity of the mountains startle me as they do every time I look at them. The view is almost like the standard setting for drawing I would stick to in my childhood: long chain of inverted Vs meant to resemble valleys and mountains with a circle in between that was meant to appear like the sun in the backdrop.

The moment is ecstatic! I count my blessings again as I am reminded of Mani's words, "You're lucky to be able to afford studying in a holiday resort! ". It really cannot get better than this.

The Ironies Of Life

Now finding text books lying scattered all over the place even during holidays, doesn't make a very pleasant sight. So just as I'm about to pile them up and jettison them to an inconspicuous place, I feel this sudden urge to flip through the pages of one of them. The hi-fi gizmo gadgets drawn on the cover have no direct connections to the contents inside.As I quickly glance through the bizzare convolutions of some arbit theories related to motors, generators,transistors and what not, the subject strangely seems to be more than just interesting. Now if only this could happen before my exam!

My mind flashes back to the day I was going to write the exam. I stand waiting patiently at the bus stop,only to realize that the frequency of buses is strangely low, just the day when I am desperate to reach college on time.And nothing can be more annoying than to find plenty of them going in the opposite direction on the other side of the road, when I'm looking for just one that can transfer me to my destination. Eventually after a long, nail-biting wait, an absolutely over-crowded bus comes to my rescue and without a second thought, I rush into it pell-mell. An old lady sitting with a 2 year old in the front seat, is kind enough to make place and allow me to sit next to her,only to blissfully rest her head on my shoulder and to doze off open-mouthed.

Now I ain't complaining.On the contrary, I'm only too happy to be able to do a quick, much-needed brush up on the derivations.But soon it seems to be only next to impossible with the stereo blaring out raunchy regional numbers(Aaah ante amalapuram??!!).So I politely ask the conductor to turn it off and naively point out to the book in my lap.My request is met with no more than just plain indifference with the conductor not just smirking in her seat, but also tapping her feet to the blaring numbers (Whoever said that lady conductors are considerate!!).I can't help but smack my face when the 2 year old gets amused and tries to slavishly imitate me.Not that I dislike kids or anything,but at the same time I just can't help disliking those with running noses.

Just a few moments before the exam, I earnestly pray that out of the 4 sets of question papers,I get the one that I can answer well. But as always I end up getting the set that would have been an absolute sitter for some of my friends and they get ones that I would have been able to crack easily.Resolving not to cry over spilt milk but be happy that it's at least over, I'm in a mad rush to go home, when this time I find more buses going in the direction that's away from home.So I rush into the first one that stops by, not minding that I have to stand throughout the journey. Now that the gruelling three-hour exam's over, I'm all set to listen to any goddamn thing that can play on the stereo to pep up my mood, only to be told that the one in the bus isn't working.Now if only this was the case when I was on my way to college!!And just then I notice two empty buses pass by..

The irony isn't just with the outside world-My fingers keep itching terribly to play the piano when I'm bang in the middle of my exams.And the few pieces that I play come out so flawlessly that I promise myself to work hard on my limited repertoire after my exams.But ironically now, when I have all the time to do it, I make so many slip ups , that they keep jarring on my ears and my brain seems to lose its connection with my hands as my fingers refuse to move even a wee bit.Wondering how performers tackle their mood swings, I keep scouring the net for some excerpts from Vikram Seth's An Equal Music and get relieved to read the narration of the violinist's : "..I stumbled, my mind jammed, I felt the pressure of every breath. For two months I could do nothing.." I click the link featuring the interview with Vikram Seth.It reads: "..After A Suitable Boy, I didn't write anything, not even a short story.I thought to myself: I ought to start writing. But I can never force myself to write.." I suddenly remember my own blog that I haven't visited for ages.The last post's entry date flabbergasts me and I tell myself that I just can't force myself to write and soon after, I end up doing just that.