ArpitGarg's Weblog

An opinion of the world around me

Posts Tagged ‘class

Secret Talks

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Personal Secret is described as something that is known to the person alone and not to any of his acquaintances. Lie is defined as an intentional false statement. They both are related as one leads to another.

Everyone keep secrets. To keep them hidden, they lie. There are various reasons behind. Most common are shame, loss of money, property, love desertion, to brag etc.

I have come across people who kept some weird secrets, told wonderful lies. Some of substance, some just for fun.

1. Kyunki…shhh
A college mate leads the pack. You know how it’s common to deride the ‘Saas-Bahu’ soaps. Well this friend of mine just loved them. The situation was precarious; he couldn’t dare to them watch openly, lest he became butt of all jokes. So he used to download and watch them all alone quietly. As fate would have it, he shared the folder by mistake across the network and the skeletons came tumbling out.

2. Categorically denied
Our society has been divided into class and caste and so is the college admission process. However in some a stigma of being a category student creeps in. Treatment meted out to them could be a reason. There was a guy in our batch, who lied about the same. I won’t go further into the reasons, as the discussion is complex. But when it came out in the open, it left everyone wondering.

3. Had a boyfriend
Most common of them all! Don’t tell about having boyfriend/girlfriend and keep yourself in the market. It’s okay for causal flirting but when done to take advantage, it becomes tasteless. A girl fooled around with a friend to get him to do the academic work allotted to her, while keeping the existence of her boyfriend hidden. Here’s a fact: ‘Guys only help Single Girls’. She knew this well. I can’t say that my friend really cared or so he said later on.

4. From Upstate
We often find people hiding their birth place. Across Europe, I have found people from Pakistan calling them Indians. In Mumbai, few people from UP, Bihar fake their origin to be Delhi. Sometimes out of being scared, sometimes otherwise. A friend of mine introduced himself in the first year as a Delhite. It was only in the final year that we came to know he was from Ghaziabad. He tried to justify by citing NCR. Well reasons can be aplenty. We do still poke him for the same.

5. Opener
A senior at college related to me a funny story. During their first year, a guy told everyone that he was the highest JEE ranked student of their batch. He was called Kholu (common term for rank opener). He enjoyed the limelight for a semester, at the end of which people came to know the truth. They started calling him nakli kholu. Why he lied is still a secret as he maintained his innocence all through.

6. Open the Closet
A serious issue with our society as far as homo-sexuality goes. I have known at least two people who kept it a secret, for obvious reasons though. Hopefully, in future the social stigma attached o it will wither away and people would not have to hide in the closet.

7. Uncle Sam
A first year student who was a localitie was being ragged. He dared the seniors, “My uncle is in ULFA, stay away from me or else don’t tell me I didn’t warn you”. Needless to say, he got away. The fun was, everyone knew he was lying but no one dared to call otherwise.

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Redemption

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I shook hands with and hugged a number of people today. I was in my hometown for holidays and fortunately it coincided with one of my schoolmates wedding. We being family friends were invited to the marriage.

Just a bit of background. I wasn’t all too social guy at school. Didn’t even know the names of many from my class. I can laugh at it today but I was a suck-up to the teachers and evidently not very popular among fellow students. It has been 7 long years since I passed out of school and haven’t had time to catch up with any of my mates barring a few close ones.

Normally I hesitate going up to someone, shaking hands and initiating a talk. The same reason why I don’t consider myself an MBA material. Anyways, today was a day to set things right. I entered the arena just as the Baraat was entering. A bunch of people were dancing. I recognized one of them to be an old pal. I shook hands and hugged. It was not exactly nostalgic but discovering. More so for a person like me, who never took a chance to socialize with people when had time.

Anyways, I met not less than two dozen old mates. Some married, some bachelors and others somewhere in between. I took the lead in going up to people with, “Saath mein padte the yaar, naam yaad nahin aa raha”. Not remembering was a lame excuse; I never really knew the names of many people in the first place. They were mere faces for me. But I was happy and guilt ridden at the same time when most of them replied, “Don’t worry we remember your name, Arpit”.

I stayed till late, chatting, relishing old times. Wish I could have chatted with you guys more. But it was a nice little start. Thank you all for remembering my name when I was so pathetic as to not remember your’s. And above all thanks to my friend whose marriage gave me a chance to meet old pals. Best wishes to him.

Smell of blood

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Chukk…Chukk…Chukk…Chukk…Thud!…Silence…Realization…Rush…Bachao…Bachao…Wait…Relief… Compensation…Chukk…Chukk…Chukk…Chukk

If one asks you, how many train mishaps took place in the country last month? You wouldn’t be able to answer, leave aside naming the trains involved. Like most other Indians, I am a regular train traveler and a keen one too. Even amidst the stats of two accidents taking place daily, neither do I change my travel plans, quiet frankly, nor can I afford to.

Only when it hits you close enough that you come to feel it. A train rammed into another during the heavy fog. I read the news and turned the page over as routine. It’s only when I found out that a dear friend of mine was on the same train that I became anxious. Now he is a guy who is least bit affected by such things. “These things happen”, is his attitude. But something he experienced that day forced him to change his outlook. A newfound respect for life, perhaps. He wouldn’t admit this, so no point drooling over.

According to him a real accident site is nothing that we witness in movies and quite far from the well shot clips that run through news channels. The sense of shock can’t be explained. It’s the state of cluelessness. It takes time to gather the composure. You fear to get down at first, not knowing if it’s a terrorist attack, an accident or some alien invasion. Such is the mental state. People start reciting Holy Scriptures.

If you are the one who would get down to take stock of the situation, you might see some smoke and dust at the rear of the train. The closer you get to the injured bogies, the more anxious you become. The smell of dust and sand gets strong and so does the crowd. You come near the huddle where people are trying to help the injured. You sense a smell which is intoxicatingly nauseating. What is this smell? You wonder. It strikes you just as you near an overturned and smashed bogey. It’s the smell of fresh human blood and raw human meat.

You see a wailing mother whose child is stuck inside. You can’t help her. You are struck by a feeling of sheer helplessness. There are scenes you would have never wished to see. Somewhat similar to the ones you might have heard from doctors working in emergency ward. The ripped open stomach, cracked bone, crushed skull and hanging leg (only leg and nothing else). All this and the intoxicating smell. The head feels dizzy.

You witness a whole new world. Everyone becomes a family; tries to save as many lives as possible. Consolations…Water…Medicines are collected from everybody aboard. Anyone who had had a doctor in the family becomes one today.  And Ah! no help from the authorities still. You see a bogey which is crushed to half with no way to pull the people out. Near it, you see a person, who in lieu of helping, try to pickpocket the unconscious and you feel no strength to confront him.

When the help arrives, you find the authorities helping the AC coaches first followed by reserved ones followed by general ones. The worst part of it is that nobody cares. Such deeply engraved is the class system into our psyches that we don’t see any wrong in what is being done. Neither do AC coach people feel embarrassed, nor do general coach people complain. Within few hours the train departs.

Witnessing death from that close tends to turn you towards faith. You vow to enjoy each and every second of your life from then on. After sometime you forget and it becomes a part of your documented memory.

Written by arpitgarg

January 27, 2010 at 2:48 pm

Dreaming again 3: Friends For Sale

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We had an unexpected break this Thursday. The lecture got cancelled (quite an anomaly!). Medical problem, I guess. It’s one hell of a problem in this side of the world, more so, if you are an outsider. I myself took time adjusting to the local weather, had to be medicated a couple of times. This takes me back a couple of years, when I snubbed the CMO, IITG. God! What a prig I was.

“…how to compute the probability…given the…we try to uncover the hidden part of the model…”

The nodding goes on as usual. Lata is sitting right in front of me or as they say I just came and sat right on the back of her. I tell you, I am losing charm in her overtime; her being married hasn’t helped much either. I think it’s finally over.

The Friends For Sale (FFS) application on Facebook is really making me crazy. When I meet someone new, I often find myself guessing how much he is worth.

“…we try to use optimality criterion to solve this problem as best as possible…”

Here comes champu and jj. Pucchu is not here yet. Today champu and I went to Prof. Ketaki. She is the instructor for our humanities course. It was about our presentation that is due.

“…model parameter is called the training sequence…”

Oops! Sir tried to peak into my writing.

I had one of the most satisfying talks with her. She sensed a bit of political sense in me from my mid-sem answer scripts. She talked about how not to lose sense of what we believe in and how we feel about it. “The whole world will try and take it away from you…but it’s so divine that it must be protected”. Her words are still ringing in my ears.

“…let N be the size of the code book. So we get the seq of vectors out of M diff. indexes”

Why is the attendance so low today? I can hardly count 15.

Where was I? Yes, champu. He is the sort of guy who keeps the group going. “Never let the fun die out”. Champu tried to peek into my diary. I gave him the finger.

“…to segment each of the word training sequence into stages and study the prob. Of the spectral vectors.”

God! I feel sleepy. It’s been 2 days now, I guess.

JJ and I finished working on a term paper recently. It dealt with DNA cryptography, such a novel idea. We have worked really hard on it. Hope it materializes.

It’s the purple suit and a brown hair clip today. Can’t I leave it already?

“…once the w-HMM’s recognition of an uttered unknown word is done using a solution to problem.. each word is modeled based upon the given test observation sequence…”

The FFS is engulfing like hell. I was just napping about it. God it’s great. I heard a remark about me sitting in this particular seat. I got the hint.

Champu sneezed, kido yawned while ld enjoyed the usual nap. FFS once again crossed my thoughts. Don’t call me crazy. If you think you don’t get addicted that easily, try it once.

Written by arpitgarg

April 1, 2008 at 11:42 am

Dreaming again 2: Profs, admin and acads

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It’s raining outside, mildly though. We are all here, attending the lecture. It’s just the rain but I often wonder if even a natural calamity would give you a day off here at IIT! Classes need to be at the prescheduled time come what may.

Here, most of the administrative work is handled by the faculty. And going by the general feeling, these academicians often find it too hot to handle. Their performance speaks for it! But when it comes to acads, they are right up there. Lectures take place on time. Exams are never postponed. Labs and presentations progress smoothly. This leads to the obvious question: Why? Why the performance of dean acads is bound to be far better than that of dean establishment (say)? Wait a sec, why am I treading this path anyway?

What’s the chit-chat between praji and jj? I guess it’s about some Sodhi girl. Don’t they have something else to talk about? Let me fool around a bit. Ha! I just gathered Kumar Sir’s attention by sneezing. Sitting beside me they both were caught in the act.

“…If you have 100’s of occurrences of the same word…its unlikely unless you put the same data…the next need for using vector quantization properly…”

What a disturbance. Kumar Sir just glared at me while I was trying hard not to chuckle. As he dictates a lemma let me gather my thoughts. By the way what the hell is a Markov model?

Let me put a few words about praji. As the name suggests he is a sardar. I tell you this coz there is a legend related to it. In the very first year, a quadruplet became very famous. “praji, gd, nappy and dinky. Theirs were an eat-drink-sleep together kind of a gang, nicknamed “Sardar Chaukdi”. The fun lie in the fact that dinky’s full name is rahul shetty. I just teased praji about that Sodhi girl. He is frowning quiet bad.

JJ requires a special mention for he has surprised us all once again. He flew back today morning. All this after he got us convinced that he won’t be back anytime before two weeks. Sometimes I think he likes to fool around with people and surprise them just for the fun of it.

“…obeying the standard stochastic constraints where probability…called an observable Markov model…”

Gullu just cracked one on me. It’s becoming increasingly hard to control the laughter.

That left me wondering as to why the row sum, in a stochastic matrix, should always be equal to one.

Written by arpitgarg

March 31, 2008 at 6:51 am

Dreaming again

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The music is very loud. The crowd is dancing in fun and frenzy. I can’t see much amidst the cigarette smoke, save the belly of my dance partner. What a unique belly button. Not round as all are, somewhat square as one may call it. Unique but stunning. No point hiding it, belly button is what turns me on the most. Suddenly the music has stopped. I can hear some humming. The belly button has moved away becoming round, making the belly flat and black.

Where was I? Oh! Yes, now I remember. Kumar Sirs lecture. Have I been day dreaming again, about yet another belly button? Oh my God! I have been.

“…where ar = The LPC’s of the reference and at will be the LPC of test…”

“What was all this junk”? Professor Kumar is trying his best to explain the concepts to us, but believe you me; I am getting none of it. Not that I am trying to. When I look around all I can see is 50 faces of people from Mars. I try to make a poker face, trying to save my emotions from spilling. Like I have any of them!

The guy sitting on my right, two rows ahead. I don’t know his name. He was one from the masters’ course. Why I or for that matter any of my bachelors’ colleague won’t know his name is a matter that I don’t want to rake up right now, but will take it up later.

So this guy, donning the thinnest nose I have ever seen is moving back and forth; trying to stay awake. What’s that outside the window? At a certain distance, I can see a dupatta, pink in colour. The more I try to focus, the more I can’t. The curtain in the room is trying hard to obstruct my view. No matter. I can still make up for the lost opportunity by using the power of my imagination. Alas! What am I turning into?

Enough of this monkey business. Let’s come back to the class room. Dada bond is sitting in the second row, extreme left, with his bag over his shoulder. Now that we have come to Dada bond, let me tell you why we call him bond. He is one of a kind. I remember during our first year at college when I was trying to grasp the basics of C. I still shiver  to think of those days. At that time he used to hack our accounts. A lot of time his mail account was blocked by admin owing to unusual activities. That was the official reason though. Whatever, as usual he is with his bag on and jotting down each and every dot of chalk that Kumar Sir is making on the board. Why is he making all these notes in this last semester? It seems a bit unusual to me, but who cares.

Yes, I forgot to tell you, this is my last semester at college. 8th semester. 4 years have passed. I have always heard that time flows very fast. But it’s only when such moments  arrive that you realize the gravity of the statement. It seems just like yesterday, when I first came to college. Now two months hence, I would be leaving all of this for a new place.  But all these thoughts can wait, the lecture is important.

“…100 such values/sec will be streaming from source…we have to further do the analysis of the data by cepstral analysis…”

Sorry Pa! I can’t handle this at all. About Professor Kumar himself. He is one of the senior faculty members of CSE  dept. Ah yes! I am in Computer Science Dept. This Kumar Sir is also one of a kind. His lecture may fall short of technical details but none that he speaks can be grammatically wrong. It all has to be articulated to the T. Current course, comes under his research interests. Thereby we are being subjected to two hours of agony or as they say double delight.

I am feeling bit like a goose. Coz while writing all this, I have to look once a while at the projector board and nod my head several times to imitate that I am following the lecture.

Well there is this lady in the class, the only one enrolled for this course (I really liked this line “in this course”, like the situation is any better otherwise). Let’s call her Lata. She is sitting just in front of me or better still I came and sat just behind her. She is the only one from Venus in the room.

Oh! Sir might have a hint that I am not following the lecture. Let me nod vigorously.

Back to Lata. I call her lady, coz she seems to be quite elder to us, having enrolled for a PhD. Now that I have come to her, let’s finish it off.

I first saw her in Preetam Sirs class. Preetam Sir, deserves special mention and I will come to him later in detail. I saw her and like we all here are, concentrated more on her than the lecture or the projector board. After these four years at a sex starved college, I am not shy anymore staring the opposite sex, if I see one. This went on for a week till I found out that she was married. Oh! One more of my infatuation breaks.

It’s hard for me to understand how one can continue studies even after marriage. Why deny those sweet moments of cuddling and love for such boring lectures. But I guess that’s my frustration speaking. Gaining knowledge is essence of life and can be done at any point in life. She is married but to still gaze at her like that? Maybe I see her as a ray of hope at the very end of the tunnel.

Written by arpitgarg

March 19, 2008 at 11:46 am

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