The Cooking Codes.

Without much ado, i jump into the topic... Sometimes Cooking and coding seem to be greatly similar. 


Both of them have Methods, called recipes in one case and algorithms in the other.

Both have parameters to be tuned, an input to be given, and a precise output that is expected.

In both cases, partial output is totally worthless.

There is a huge huge gap between the method conceived and its implementation.

Both require utmost concentration for a novice, and though sometimes they can be automated, the resultant product is not always the one desired.


Both have to be learnt with practice. The experts can never "teach" how to do it. Usually, both are done by trial and error in the beginning stages.

Both can be 'learnt' in a matter of days, but take years to master!

The superficial similarities are not the only ones.

Both can be outsourced, although it does cost a lot to do so. Neither of these is learnt unless (1)there is a life-threatening emergency to do so. or (2) if it turns out to be a passion for him/her.

Both are absolutely drab and a waste of time to some people whilst some others consider it an exalted form of art , a medium of ultimate sophisticated self expression.

The bosses always want the result, and are not concerned about how difficult it was to get it done.

The number of books abound for both, but the quality does not necessarily improve by the reading of books.

Its extremely trivial to make errors in either, and once the errors are made, its very very very difficult to find and correct.

Both have their time and space complexities, and that cant always be estimated beforehand.

Discoveries of new recipies/hacks are mostly done by lucky accidents.

Each has its beauty, a subtle indication of the fine precision and skill that has been chiselled into it. This is often only pursued by the people who have the 'taste' for such things. For others, one recipe seems as lifeless and boring as the others.

In both these skills, if the heart is not in the job it is very difficult to accomplish much and the time and money spent does not always add up to the quality.

"Too many cooks spoil the broth" holds true in both the domains.

Both skills turn to be life critical at times, and become vulnerable to Murphy's laws too, and precisely at that time.

Lastly, there is always scope for improvement in both!

Oh, somethings missing.... Ah .. A moral ... So here it goes ...

So, the next time your grand mother asks you a doubt in computers, do not be arrogant. She would be a better coder than you, if only she plunged into the domain. She already knows the tricks of the trade. [:P] Oh, i forgot , the reverse does not always hold true.

PS : Sorry for making you read this mokkai.

At Home...

Once upon a time, when this title could not be abbreviated to ~ or a bunch of HTML  ; when it still referred to a place one need not wear any masks, there lived a 9-year old boy called Karthik.

 He loved his home, quite understandibly, and more so during holidays. He waited all year for his summer holidays and now that they were here, he was totally overjoyed. On the very first day, he asked his father to wake him up at 5:45 am, astonishing him. After all, one could not afford to lose holidays sleeping, much unlike the schooldays wherein he had to be dragged out of sleep. 

His father was punctual, and he did get up, brushed his teeth and put on the TV and computer together. Multitasking was not just in the domain of Computers. His elder sister woke up slowly, and was shocked to see him awake. In fact, he had seriously considered putting off the fan, and pouring some water over his sister's head as she slept, but decided against it. Not that he was afraid of her; it was just that it was against his principles to attack an unarmed person. 

His sister smiled at him encouragingly and sat near him with the tumbler of coffee as he played Age of Empires ( without cheatcodes) . He tightened his hold on the mouse. He certainly was not going to give her the computer to program/watch movies. She smiled again and appreciated his strategies. He started worrying now.  He told her clearly that he would not relinquish the hold on the computer, and if she put a password there in his absence ( as he clearly suspected ), she would have to face dire consequences. She was annoyed, and left the place. He liked it that way. 

At 12:00 noon, as he had conquered most of the world, his mother, for the 28th time, ordered him to go to bath. He decided that he must have some rest too. He collected his accessories - that included 3 GI-Joes , Chess coins, 2 paper boats, and a bouncing ball and went to bath. 

He planned his naval strategies meticulously on the water in the bucket, with the very simulation of a naval battle that he was soon going to launch. In the midst, somethings caught his attention. He was amazed how the color of water changed from White to Colorless; why the water from the tap took a cylindrical shape( even after coming out). He came back and as he gulped his food, he asked his doubts to his sister. His sister did not bother to even look up from the thick book she was reading. 

Seething with anger, he wondered what they learnt in higher classes. He then watched back-to-back movies of Harry Potter on Pogo.  In the evening, he was ordered by his mother to write the Tables.  He did not understand why he had to write it when the calculator could do it in an instant. "Because the calculator is not allowed in an Exam" , came the reply.  " Why?". "Because they want you to learn tables." He was certainly not impressed with the circular reasoning.  He strongly felt that he would reform the educational system when he grew up.

Grudgingly, he wrote all the tables from 3 to 14, even as he saw his sister doing some programming on the computer. Curious, he asked her what it was. She explained that it was a complicated sort algorithm. He was aghast. They did the questions like " Arrange the following in increasing order " in the 2nd Std and his sister was still stuck on that. He thought AOE was much better than spending 2 hours to write a program to arrange 5 numbers in an increasing order. Nevertheless, his sister did not appreciate his comments, quite expectedly. 

Once he got bored of AOE, he went back to his mother pestering her to make sweets that day(since it marked the commencement of his holidays) . Sitting on the cool balcony with his mother, gazing at the endless stars and the drifting clouds lit brightly with the moonlight,  he wondered what he had done that day. Nothing, came the honest reply from his heart. He persisted. He asked himself if anything he could do would have made a difference to this infinite cosmos? He went further and wondered if anything anyone  could do would make a difference to it. The answer was still negative. " Why then do the adults spend all their time in worry and complaints when none of their actions are actually of no great consequence? " He would soon understand, or quit the attempt to understand as people all around him had done... For the time being, he kept contemplating...

Marcos

Ever Heard of them? Chances are that you have never even come across this term. But they are one of the most elite forces in the world, and are the best  - in talent, will, confidence, dedication and perfection. 

The reason why that is so is not too hard to fathom. Just hover over the video here! If you have time, you could as well see the entire video.

I salute their dedication. Jai Hind!

The Unique Batch that is...

28th November 2007  - The last day of classwork at BITS Pilani Goa Campus , and the last day we attended classes there as proud Kernelites. Exactly one year is up, and I was flooded with memories when I saw the "raw" videos that we shot, on this very day last year. Now, one year later, my friends are at different places  - most of them core professionals now ( some entrepreneurs too) , few still unchanged, and a fewer are students still. /* No.. We did not  fail. */

****T6***** - an ID that is now unique to just 45 ( +1+3) of us, a bond that all of us share - not to mention the perennial confusion as to what it really meant and whether it was engineering after all. The wonderful journey started in 2004, with us treading on a path no-one else had ever explored before. Well, i can confidently declare now that the journey through the college has been as colorful and as wonderful as the journey to it...

The first year went in a hurry - with sparse interaction between us. Maybe we were more worried about Thevenin and Norton.  I, for one, never got to figure that out completely. :( But that does not matter. Not now anyways. We had our first interaction with a question " How many of your names start with "B" ? " From the second day, I have been guilty of occupying 2 seats. And no !, I am not that fat! [ You can check in the photos below ] .The second year was enjoyable, despite the Mini-Tests. The third year was supposedly serious with CDCs hanging by our heads. The fourth year - I wont comment.

We were quite aloof, right from the very beginning, and united as a class- so much that for the first two years, it never even occured to us that we must have an association. I was really fortunate to be  in a class where the people really cared about each other, and the teachers were more like seniors. We did a host of projects - each one of them involving an intense argument [:P] finally culminating in a desperate Nightout. How can I ever forget the Fan regulator, a project that we had no clue about till the penultimate day. The doubts which we had would have put the inventor of the regulator to shame. Fortunately , my ingenious teammates were the saviours! 

 Who can forget the rigorous preparation for Quark-06, a feat that was repeated at the Apogee... There were wonderful leaders who emerged, and they were role models for the rest of us. For that matter, each member of the class displayed some unique and rare virtues - something I have been awed by.

There were certain remarkable moments too. Infosys Dinners. The blue dress drama. Samosas in the class. Commentary at the back. Mini-tests. Birthday Celebrations. Kabo-de-Rama Trip. Videos. World Cup Victory. Quark. Airport Plaza. The C-Chakra( which i guess only 2 other people know about), Electives' Worries, Pangs before placements... The list goes on...  Our class was certainly unique in more ways than one. Caring, united, always enthusiastic! 

Well, should I end with one question, one of the first we were ever put  across - "How many of our names start with 'B'? ... :) If you know the answer, ( as was given in the class) do comment :).

At College

9-year old Karthik was overjoyed! His summer holidays were on. His sister had her college reopening the next week. He simply enjoyed seeing  his sister prepare to go to college. He accompanied his mother to do some shopping, which usually translated to getting to see hundreds of cars speeding by, and millions of people moving about. 

He always wondered, what business did so many people have lazing around. Surely, not all of them could be working on the road! His joy was multiplied since he did not have school and his sister was preparing for college. He always had this tendency to show off his idleness, just to annoy her. He deliberately played Cricket 2007 for around 7 hours per day, with his own commentary following that of Mr. Boycott. Needless to say, his sister wasn't amused. But then, brothers dont get such golden chances everyday... 

The happiest thing for him was that he was going to visit her college too. He was thrilled. He often imagined college to be a cool place where the teachers no longer caned their students, most homeworks were given to be ignored and where people could go in color dress and without any schoolbag. ..

The joy was overwhelming when he arrived at her college. He wished her all the best, and made it a point to tell her what his plans for the rest of the holidays were....  For the first day, he decided to sneak into a class, to see what the people learnt. And since he was tiny, he couldn't be seen except by the guy behind him, who, to his surprise was quietly dozing ... 

The professor came, well he did look like a teacher,... he never understood the distinction. He wrote the topic on the board, some "Dynamic Programs." He wanted to cry out the misspelling of programme - his English Miss would have been aghast to have seen such a thing, but decided against it. Just at the time, he saw a boy, come in, with a big schoolbag. He wondered what he kept inside the bag, that noone else seemed to need. Maybe it was the books... or clothes.. or laundry... To break the reverie, that boy took out a notebook, and started writing. What was he writing? He had no idea. According to him, the professor had just written a wrong spelling on the board... Wierdos exist everywhere, he concluded. 

There were many peculiar things he observed in the class. There was a platform. The teacher did not shout "KEEP QUIET!!" even once during the period. People came in strange dresses. Noone sat in the front row. Everyone, well wierdos excluded, had just one notebook... and they were not collected at the end of the class for correction. For one thing, he doubted if anybody had written anything there. Overall, he felt amazed. 

Now he began to envy his sister for being in  a college. He fantasized that when he would go to college, he would have a flying motorbike ( surely they must be invented by then!! ), cooling glasses, a jeans pant and a t-shirt with lights!(well... maybe bcos then he could be a bright student!) ...

He came back and wondered. what did the people in the class do that he did not. He was very happy with himself. He had heard a number of times from elders that one's own happiness was what mattered in life. And he was happy enough with himself. True, he could be happier if his Mom had got him the GI-Joe and the new model of the Hot-wheels, but then there would always be another shopping session, he reassured himself. He wondered why he should grow up. Maybe to spell Programme wrong, maybe to speak to the computer more than to his own friends, maybe to complicate things that were really simple and then to derive pleasure in simplifying them, and maybe to live a happy life after all... 

The Poetry of Programming

http://www.dreamsongs.com/PoetryOfProgramming.html

The Great!

Good is a fairly common adjective in todays world, and Great is becoming very cliched too, but if there is a person who truly deserves it, it is Sachin Tendulkar. 

Exquisite on the field, brimming with self confidence and instilling fear into the hearts of his bowlers, whilst commanding respect from them and awe from the crowds - this has been his way of life for the past 19 years. His bat has broken so many records that its easy to get lost in statistical details.

 However,  one needs to step back and see, the person behind these records and achievements. 

Gentle and modest in nature and simple in character, he has been synonymous with Indian Cricket for as long as I can remember. His supreme self confidence stems from his perseverence, and it is no stroke of luck. It is certain that, with his passion, he would have succeeded in any field. It takes much more than mere skill to be called "Great". Here is one of his fans saluting him, not just for his excellent skills on the field, but for his impeccable personality and flawless character, that shall continue to inspire billions, long after he has called it a day.

The pursuit of Happiness !

Just read through these lines...

Good Morning ...... Mumbai !
This is Jhanvi on World Space Radio.
जाने से पहले, ये है मेरा आज का ख्याल
उन सबके लिये, जो दौड़े जा रहे हैं इस शहर की दौड़ में
शहर की इस दौड़ में दौड़ के करना क्या है?
अगर यही जीना है दोस्तों, तो फिर मरना क्या है?
पहली बारिश में ट्रेन लेट होने की फिक्र है, भूल गए भीगते हुए टहलना क्या है?
सीरियल के किरदारों का सारा हाल है मालूम, पर माँ का हाल पूछने की फुरसत कहाँ है?
आप रेत में नंगे पाँव टहलते क्यूँ नहीँ?
एक सौ आठ हैं चैनल पर दिल बहलते क्यूँ नहीँ?
इंटरनेट पे दुनिया से तो टच में हैं, लेकिन पड़ोस में कौन रहता है जानते तक नहीँ!
मोबाइल, लैंडलाइन सब की भरमार है, लेकिन जिगरी दोस्त तक पहुँचे, ऐसा तार कहाँ है?
कब डूबते हुए सूरज को देखा था, याद है?
कब जाना था शाम का गुज़रना क्या है?
तो दोस्तों, शहर की इस दौड़ में दौड़ के करना क्या है?
अगर यही जीना है दोस्तों, तो फिर मरना क्या है?


Before you close, i have just one question to ask ...

Did you really read each of those lines? Or did you merely watch the video?

If you really had the patience to read ( and ponder over) the linees, you fall in the elite 10% of the people towards whom this message is not directed!

Well, to the rest, you know... that the message does drive home a point !


PS: Thanks to Sushant Sachdeva's Website for these wonderful lines!

A Marathon

The alarm screamed. Manav woke with a start. Today was a big day for him. There was a marathon organized in his town. He was elated, when he heard the news the day before... A wonderful opportunity, he thought.

He went to the stated starting point, and looked for the organizers. He had expected a big gathering there. To his shock, there was just a calm old man sitting, coolly smoking his cigar. He enquired," Sir, where is the marathon?". The old man smiled. " Here...".
Manav's muscles tensed. " Sir, Am I late? " The old man smiled again. " Noone is ever late here. You may begin!"

"Funny", thought Manav. "Don't I need to wait for the others? Sir, May I know who you are?", he asked politely. He was doubting if the old man was indeed the organizer. The old man seemed to have read his mind. " I am the chief organizer of this sport." That very moment, gave a whistle, a signal to 2 persons who appeared on the horizon...as small as dots. " They will guide you in your initial stages. They are participants too."The idea seemed incredible to Manav. Why would they waste their time for me? The old man really seemed insane. But to his astonishment, the 2 people did stop and wait. They gave Manav a warm welcome.

Soon enough, he had outstripped them. The old man was wrong, he cursed him. He was indeed a bit late. The old man really seemed cracked up. When he had asked him, " How do I identify the way?", he had replied, " the way you take will be yours."

He rode on... He met numerous others on the way. People from all ages and walks of life. Few were too fast that he could not think of coping with them. He doubled his speed. Something was shining by the roadside. Gold coins. He picked it up. He thought that he would give it to the owner as soon as he met him.

The sky was blue... It was noon. He had begun the march at dawn. His speed was considerably slow than it was in the morning. He was wiser now. He knew the tricks of running, thanks to a lot of people who had shared it with him. He had found rubies, emeralds and diamonds on the roadside, the same way he had found gold. There was no one to claim it though. He pocketed them too...

His body wanted to take rest, but his mind urged him on. He had a long way to go, and he would not rest until he won.He quicked his pace and with a focused mind set out. He came across lush green trees,sprawling fields, birds and dancing children and some of the runners stopping to have a look at them. He did not spare them a glance though. "They were wasting their time in futile things, he thought.The cool breeze whipped across his face. He had initially started the road going downhill.Now it had slowly acquired a gradually increasing slope. But he wasn't a person to give up. He trod on and on...

At about 4:00 PM , he was on the verge of falling from exhaustion. He stopped and panted. A fellow runner offered him a bottle of fresh water. He drank it and felt fresh. " Are you a participant?", he asked the other man. "No... Everyone has an accomplice here to run along and guide them when needed." Manav was surprised. He had not noticed the other person till then. He told him so. The man laughed. "A lot of people only get to hear my voice. Very few in dire need get to see me. You can consider me as a combination of advisor and record-keeper." Manav was fresh. He remembered hearing some voice stating the direction to take." So it was this person", he justified to himself.

" I must take leave from you. Thanks for your guidance". He bid adieu. Though he had come a far way, he could often sense the other person coming along. He turned his attention to the road again.

He had to run fast. He still ignored the cheerful chirpings of the sparrows, the cool breeze, the colourful sky and the rustle of the leaves. There would be time for that later. He had an important business on hand. He had to win this race.

Soon, it was dusk. With an anxious heart, he saw the Sun set behind the hills. He could at most walk, a few steps at a time. The road was extremely steep now. He still had the precious stones he had collected with him. He saw some young boys outstripping him, laughing. As he considered giving up, he saw something that made his heart cry with delight.

The old man. For a moment he wondered how the old man managed to travel so fast. Then the truth struck him. He observed that he was back at the starting point of the race. The old man smiled yet again and asked," How was the experience? Did you enjoy it?" This time Manav laughed. "Enjoy? I was focused on winning.... Where is my medal? Have I won it??" The old man smiled again. "There are no winners or losers here. This is not a race, my son." " What was the purpose of the sport then? ",Manav cried. The old man calmly replied, " It is its own purpose. What matters is what you give rather than what you take" Manav's mind was numbed with exhausion and shock. He wasn't sure he understood what the old man was saying.

He felt himself unable to take the two steps necessary to complete. At that time, the old man put his hand into Manav's pocket and pulled out the gold, silver, rubies and diamonds. He threw them by the roadside, and to Manav's shock, told him that he could not take anything beyond the finishing point. " They are not yours either. You were just the trustee for them."

As he stepped onto the finishing line, Manav had attained a strange clarity of mind. The fog in his heart cleared as the storms of disappointment were pacified. He just wished that he had got this understanding a bit earlier. Even as he thought, he could feel a strange detachment from his body...that he no longer bothered about the tiredness... his feet gave way and he fell. Not onto the ground, but into the open arms of the old man, who smiled yet again. As his brain slipped into oblivion, he saw with his closing eyes another soul roaring to begin... begin the the marathon called life.

September 11th 1752 !!!

Ever knew what happened on September 11th 1752 ?

Nothing.

Please take a look at the calendar of 1752 :

September 1752
Su Mo Tu We Th Fr Sa
xx xx 01 02 14 15 16
17 18 19 20 21 22 23
24 25 26 27 28 29 30

/* Try cal 9 1752 on your shell*/

PS : The reason??? Please see http://www.trialsofgrizelda.com/harvest/September%201752.htm

Worries at School.

Karthik alighted from the school bus with a sense of foreboding. Something similar to Spider Man's spider-sense that he had come to associate with the school atmosphere. He quietly collected his lunch bag, and walked towards the old building. For some strange reason, he never relished this time of the day when you had to walk into the class, only to find some homework forgotten or some sincere sigamani preparing fervently for an anticipated test.

Silently he dragged himself towards Class V 'A'. On the way he met numerous tiny pupils, who slunk away from him. He gave a smug smile to them, which he hoped would be reassuring to them. Upon entering the class, he was happy to find no book open. His friends were busy playing pen-fight, a sport that had evolved from the carrom-board and which could be played on the teacher's desk.

He placed his bags in his place in the front row, and sat down to watch the proceedings. It consisted of intricate understanding of the physics of the pen movement, not to mention the pen choice ( reynolds 045 could nover hold fort against a jetter, for instance ) and accessories ( like rubberband, that were used to add to the weight and power and prevent the sliding of the pen ). He wasn't a player though. He had always been a silent spectator. So, he hid his Ink pen deep inside his bag, as he could not afford to let his friends break its nib again.

For some reason, he was considered peculiar by his classmates. He knew it, but he was too shy to talk to them about that and so, used it to remain mum on most occasions. Even during the lunch break discussions, by the time he clearly decided to add to the ongoing discussion, his friends would move on to some other topic, leaving him a mere spectator.

The bell rang. The students lined up outside the class for the assembly. He liked the morning assembly a lot. For one thing, he could not be singled out in the crowd. Following the prayer, he took the pledge. Even as he was stating the pledge, he wondered what was the reason behind taking the pledge everyday. It definitely was not prayer and if it was a sincere vow, he thought that the number of times did not really matter. It was followed by a brief sermon by the principal who found the discipline lacking in some classes. He let his mind freely wander in this period. He observed that his French Sir wore the same sequence of shirts every week, and that the PT Master was clean-shaved every alternate Monday... Soon, it was time for the National Anthem.

______________________________________________________________

Social Science Period :

After a hectic day, he finally got to the period that he awaited the most, the Last one. To add to his joy, it was Social Studies, taught by his favorite teacher in the school. He simply loved Social Studies, to the extent that he would read the book at home, even when there were no exams, a feat that no other subject had induced him to perform till date. He considered history on par with the stories his grand-mother used to tell him - about kings, emperors, wars and glorious victories. The way his Miss taught just added to his interest. On that day however, she was to teach a lesson from Geography. Suddenly, his neighbour asked him for a sharpener. He gave it, with a face as though he had been interrupted in the midst of a movie.

His Miss went on to describe the composition of the earth, its temperature and how it was slowly rising due to deforestation. She also painted a vivid picture of the consequences, if it continued for some more time. Young Karthik was shocked. With tears threatening to burst forth from his eyes, he mentally imagined a flooded situation, with no current. No fan or computer. No computer games. No schools. ( a thought that slightly cheered him up ). All people struggling to get fresh water.

He considered the adults too stupid to have not learnt even that much in so many years. He fervently wished that his Miss should be the Prime Minister for some time till such affairs were set in order. On the way back home, he saw clouds of smoke emanating from the factories, and logs of wood carried in lorries. All this enraged and frightened him.

Once at home, he poured out his fears to his mother. To add to his shock, she merely smiled. That very evening, he forced his mother to buy him a Mango sapling from the nearby nursery to be planted in their backyard. He named it Madayan, such that its full qualified name became Manga-Madayan. Madayan was his best friend ever since. He sincerely requested Madayan to work overtime to consume more greenhouse gases and save him from the trauma of floods. Till date Madayan has obliged. It is upto the 'intelligent' homo sapiens to do the needful now.

As you Like It

A view from my balcony

Colinjivadi Impressions

A strange name for a post indeed. For my friends wondering about what this is, let me clarify. Colinjivadi ( or Kolinjivadi) is the name of my native place, a small village nestling on the banks of the Amaravathi River, amidst the lush green fields near the popular Palani hills, 35 kms from the town of Dharapuram. Oops.. I almost forgot... It also stands for the C in my name. :)

Last week, we had an opportunity to visit this village. Max Mueller had once remarked in his popular speech " What India can teach us" that if one really wanted to know India, one had to visit the India of the villages. It presents a scenario that is totally unknown to the city dwellers.

Most of us pride on living in posh localities in the biggest cities of India. Yet, this small village comprising of 2 streets, 133 homes, 1 school ( built 2 years back ) and 1 post office completely took me over. Such is the charm. As I approached Dharapuram, I could not help but enjoy the sweet breeze, the cool surroundings, the lush green paddy fields and the gentle drizzle that brought about a sense of freshness and blew away the tiredness of the journey.

From Dharapuram, we went to Meenakshipuram, another small village lying beside Colinjivadi, famous for its Meenakshi temple. The pundit of the temple was my grandfather's friend and he was extremely pleased to see my father after all these years. He reminisced about how the things had changed. The wonderful temple atmosphere, with the wind literally whistling in my ears, made me marvel as to what made the people migrate to the cities. Whilst the pundit was busy with the temple chores, we happened to strike a conversation with another lady, from the neighboring Veerarajamangalam.

First she enquired about our whereabouts and how we happened to visit that place. As soon as we mentioned Chennai, she seemed alarmed. She asked my mother, in her typical Coimbatore accent ," Amma, pattanathula yethaarthama irukka mudiyadhaame? " ( It seems we cannot lead a natural ( free ) life in the cities. Is it true?) This simple question alarmed my mother, and brought me to fits of laughter ( which i supressed of course) . My mother assured her that it was definitely not the case, and people do lead happy lives in the cities too. She further asked her as to why she came to have that opinion. The reply she gave stunned us all. She casually told ," Amma, pattanathula veetellam pooti pooti veppangalaam. Tarandhu vechutu velila poga mudiyaadhaam. Veetla kuzhandaigalaiyum periyavangalayum paarka ve neram kidaiyadhaam"( she had heard that in the cities one had to lock their houses all day... and they dint find time to look after the children and elders in the family).

It was then that we understood what exactly she meant by a natural way of life. We, from the cities, live in an atmosphere of tension and discord and have come to accept it as a natural way of life.

We then walked over to our village. I observed the doors of each house. The lady was right. Each was wide open. The houses there are lengthy, start with a pyol, have a dozen rooms and end with a back-door leading into the other street. We entered my father's classmate's home. He lovingly welcomed us. He enquired about my uncles and the two friends updated each other about their lives, much to my awe. He also told my father about the happenings in the each of the families of Colinjivadi. I kept listening, wondering how they managed to keep abreast of the matters of the entire village, whilst the city-dwellers seldom ever care( or even identify ) about their neighbours, in their fast paced life.

We had a sumptuous lunch there. We thanked our hosts, visited our ancestral home and a few more neighbors, each of whom, though in their 80's, identified my father and recalled fond memories, and compelled us to stay for a few more days. ( ! ) We thanked them profusely and left for Palani.

This short, t his visit left a deep impression on my mind. I have studied that the technology had made our world a global village. True. We, truly live in a global village, where we live in houses, that are divided by and connected to my technology. Unfortunately, it has also paved way to a frenetic pace of life wherein, we don't have enough time to truly admire the actual source of happiness in the day-to-day life. " No time to stand and stare" was never more factual. We spend all our time catching up with yesterday's work, take undue pressures, get frustrated and burnt out.


Today chatting has come to be synonymous with GTalk and socializing means nothing but Orkut, facebook or MySpace. Meeting others in person happens only at the workplace. Visiting relatives is a rarity. People prefer to watch a pirated DVD on the laptop rather than take a stroll whilst sharing jokes with ones' friends. No-one has the time to listen to a child or help others out. We have assumed this life to be a Zero-Sum game, where if one has to win, the other has to necessarily lose.

Technology is indeed a boon to connect to the dear ones who are far away, but it should not become a bane to the relationships with our dear ones who are near. It was meant to make man live a life of luxury but the inherent greed has robbed us of our curiosity and originality. The villagers do what they need to do, when they need to do it, enjoy their life in its truest sense and lead a happy life. On the other hand, we struggle with our life all through, feeling guilty, frustrated, regretful and take recourse to superficial sources of enjoyment. It is indeed a sad state of affairs.

What we really need technology to do, is to develop the global "village" into a village, in its truest sense, as depicted by the kind lady from Veerarajamangalam. To bring the hearts of people together, to develop trust amongst them, to sink the differences.

As we waited for the bus, we met a small boy of about 8 , just returning home from school. We became instant friends, as he shared his views on different teachers teaching him. With sparkling eyes, he told that he wanted to become a Software Engineer or an astronaut. We wished him the best and I bid him goodbye as he set out on his journey, even as the wind whistled loudly and the birds' cheerful chirpings reassured me that there was still hope and lots of it.

Eight Queens Problem

Hi,

Moving away from the stories, I would like to share with you one of my favorite assignments, written more than a year back. The Eight queens problem.

The problem, as you might already be knowing, is to arrange 8 queens on a 8X8 chess board in a non attacking way.

My solution to the puzzle (exe file... no viruses :) ) can be got by clicking on the link below:

http://cvkrishnakumar.googlepages.com/EIGHTQNS.EXE

Source code in c++ is given at http://cvkrishnakumar.googlepages.com/EIGHTQNS.CPP

This uses the backtracking technique in placing the queens.

Hope you find it interesting. Please pardon the lack of comments. I would be grateful for any suggestions or comments to improve.

Karthik's Summer

Period : Summer Vacations.

Ever since his vacations began, 9 year old Karthik was waiting eagerly for the arrival of his friend. His neighbour - Preethi akka* . He had sorely missed her , since she had gone away to study at a hostel in a college. He secretly pitied her. From what he had heard, he had formed an impression that hostels were better only to central jails. He wondered why she ever went so far away to study.

His neighbours were exceptionally good people. Since his mother had to go to work, she would often ask the aunty to take care of him, in spite of his protests. Not that he resented. The aunty's fridge was home to lots of sweets, chocolates and juices, and he marveled at Preethi akka's abstinence from such nice things. He usually went to play at their house. Akka had always been helpful- she had taught him the basics of Hindi, she used to narrate to him marvelous stories of Harry Potter. Harry Potter forced him to accept that stories other than comics could be interesting too. She was his official translator, whenever they watched Hindi/ English movies on the TV.

All this 2 years ago. Last year, she had been increasingly busy, going to coaching classes for about 4-5 "entrance tests", right from 5 am in the morning. It would be around 10 pm when she came home. He had overheard aunty pouring out her worries to his mother as to how Preethi would fare in the board exams. "Board Exams? Do they write questions on the Black-board?", he wondered. It meant a hectic schedule for akka, who was quite remarkable in taking up the challenge. This was not the first time he had heard about the Boards. Come April-May, all the news channels would carry the interviews of the toppers. It was quite another matter that all of them stated the same thing. To him, they appeared quite supernatural, being interviewed by the same people who usually interviewed the President or Rajni Kanth. It was an achievement in itself.

Akka soon completed her exams and was free as ever and their ramblings continued. She, just like him, had no friends of her age in the neighbourhood. Soon, her results were announced and to Karthik's greatest joy, she had stood first, not only in her school, but also in the entire district, scoring a staggering 97 point something percentage. Their locality was a flurry of activity. She was interviewed, her photos flashed across the TV channels. Suddenly, he felt insignificant. He had never expected her to be so brilliant. After all, shd did everything that he did. But then, he thought that you could never judge people on their face value. He added this to his list of random Philosophical Principles that he made from time to time.

Akka did not feel the same way though. She continued playing with him and telling him the movie stories. His first ambition was fulfilled. He had not only met one person whom they interviewed on the TV, he was also her friend.

She went to the college shortly after, a college in Goa, and was returning only that day. His wait soon came to an end as Akka arrived at home. The first few days were spent in an usual routine. He gathered various insights about college life. He learnt that hostels weren't like jails after all and that you could wear any dress you liked to the class. This thought excited him.

There was one thing though that depressed him. Her big fat books. He could not see how he would ever lift those books, leave aside studying them. They had a use though. They would often double up as hard pillows whenever he was at their place and was too tired after watching TV. Akka graciously allowed this. Sometimes, her friends used to call her on her new mobile phone, and she would go on talking for at least half an hour. He did notice that her way of speech had certainly changed. Her talks were now punctuated by "Cho Chweet", that it almost became a distraction.

Akka's college was one of the best in India, his parents had told him. He wondered if he would ever get an admission anywhere. He had thought that he would become a Bus-conductor or a traffic policeman, after all they held the power to scold people, and none would ever retort. He had considered being a teacher, but found that he would have to force children to do homework and cane them if necessary, and this was against his conscience. So he dropped that idea.

Recently, he had added software engineer to the list too. He had been to Chandru Anna's company the previous week and to his amazement saw almost everyone there playing Minesweeper in the AC room. But he knew that there were the frightening Board Exams, that he had to face if he wanted to make any of his dreams a reality. He grew worried for some time.

Soon he came out of his depression as he remembered Preethi Akka telling him something from a Harry Potter book- " What would come, would come and he would definitely have to meet it when it did." He only hoped that he would well at that point.

* Akka - A common term used in south india to address one's elder sister.

Karthik's World

It was a pleasant morning. Karthik was riding his brand new BSA bicycle through the woods, singing merrily all the way. There were trees with barks of chocolates, with rasagullas and game CDs hanging from the trees... Cool, fresh morning breeze whipped across his face, rejuvenating it, keeping the tiredness at bay." Enthralling", he thought, "when nature and men lived in harmony". Suddenly, he heard a voice of someone familiar. "Karthik... KAAARTHHHIK....".... He halted the cycle in style, and as he was alighting in Sivaji Rajini style, he fell... headfront into the pile of lush grass, too soft to get hurt.

The Pillow. The voice? His mother's. Screaming at the top of her voice from the kitchen. "ARE YOU GETTING UP OR SHALL I CALL MISS AND TELL HE IS ABSENT??" Karthik heard. He hated. After 2 months of blisfull solitude called summer, back was the blackmailing. He strongly felt that he must finish college soon, work and retire by another 2 years and then sleep without any botheration. This thought proved to be a tonic of inspiration to break his inertia as he groggily woke up and demanded the brush. " 9 years old and i have to put the paste on his brush", mumbled his mother. "Its all the result of your spoon-feeding", remarked his father, eyeing him casually over the newspaper. This unwarranted remark enraged him. He stuff the brush into his mouth. You just needed to stand there for 3 minutes and come out and declare the teeth were brushed.

As he stood, he remembered the newspaper. He had often wondered what it contained to hold the attention of his father for two hours. He even tried sneaking into it, when he was seen by his father and surprisingly got a pat on his back. His father urged him to continue reading. Inspired, he started sifting through the pages. There was nothing. Not even pictures of animals. At most, there were pictures of "conferences" being held and men in suits. He liked wearing the suits. He had asked his mother what "conference" meant. She had replied that it was a meeting where a group of people attended, somebody talked and the others responded to that. This revelation angered him. The thing conference sounded exactly like a classroom, and still the newspaper maker had never bothered to interview him. This thought turned him against the newspaper-maker . Holding it was itself so painful to him. He spread it out on the floor and sat on one of its edges.Still, it invariably flew everywhere in the room, inviting mother's scoldings. All this convinced him not to touch the paper again.

Three minutes up. He went to the kitchen and wanted to demand coffee. But he was careful. Mornings 5:45 to 7:15 was the tension-time for mother, and you tended to get castigated for the smallest of errors.

He was cautious and slipped with his coffee into the Hall. As he sipped it, making sure that father wasn't looking that way ( sipping was told to be wrong ) , he wondered how soon his holidays had ended. What had he done during the holidays? Nothing worthwhile he recalled. His English miss had asked them to read newspapers. Well, he had at least attempted. Still he was restless. He mentally ticked a check-list of the To-Dos. He was facing a problem though. He did not remember the list. He gave up, thinking it was the 5th standard that made him feel that way.

He had attended the marriage of his cousin sister. He had very good opinion about marriages. They usually meant nice food, and protection from direct scoldings from your parents. You could always depend upon relatives to shield you. Moreover, there were too many distractions for mother to keep a close eye on his mischiefs. And then there was this presumption by the adults that they were smarter, which he encouraged , since it gave him license to mischief. But there was one irritating thing about marriages he hated. Whosoever you see, tended to ask," Do you remember me?". He often wondered how they could expect a 9-year old to remember so many names and where he had last met them. The most frustrating thing was they never seemed to remember him at all. Each person would come, tap his cheek and ask his name, school and class. And he distinctly remembered telling his aunt last year his class with section number and there she had asked again.

His reverie was interrupted by his mother, who ordered him not to play with the sugar in the coffee tumbler and go to bath. Bath! Another thing he had never understood. They said it would clean the body. He wondered how come the sand was still there even after it rained. He came out and reluctantly put on his uniform. He searched for his socks. He had always had a doubt as to which one of the pair was for which foot. He assured himself that since no-one could see, it wouldn't matter. He made out for the door, wished his mother good-bye. The feel of shoes after 2 months made him feel tall. He stood at the stop waiting for his bus to arrive.

Standing there, he couldnt help blaming himself for not having enjoyed his rare holidays ( after all they came just 70 times in a whole year) completely. Especially on Sundays, when his father spent all his time watching news, swapping news channels. For one thing, he couldn't watch Shaktiman and Captain Vyom.

The sight of the school-bus depressed him. He had prayed sincerely for rain that day. This was just the second time he had made such a sincere request to God.( the first was when he got his new raincoat !) . No answer. God must be busy or the water cycle would have been "punctured", he justified to himself.

Suddenly, he felt as if he missed his homework. Since 2 years, he had been doing his own homework. This was no great moral decision. In his second standard, he had raised a havoc and forced his father to do his homework. The next day, the maths miss immediately detected it. He later found out that there had been a question "What is the answer when 35 is divided by 3?" His father, doing the work, in the breaks between the news, had answered 11.666667. It was perfect, the only catch was that they were not taught decimals till Std 4. The answer was supposed to be Q = 11 , R = 2 . Thinking about that gave him shudders till this day.

But suddenly he stopped himself. Why should he think? "This was the first day. There would be no worries of homework or tests at least for a week to come.", he reassured himself, as he stepped into the bus - into a new year with new hopes. His friends welcomed him with a smile. As the engine of the bus roared to life, he swallowed the lump in his throat. The bus moved. Standard V beckoned him.

On Doubts

I have always had doubts, doubts on myself, doubts on facts, doubts on what others tell me, doubts on whether I had correctly heard others, correctly interpreted their thoughts, on what people would think if I told what I thought.... Doubts always gave an inferior feeling, especially when your neighbors do not ask them. For a long time, I thought that certainty was the way of the world, the firm rule that governs the existence in a perfect manner.

But as Voltaire once put forth, "Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is an absurd one." , it is indeed Doubt and uncertainty that have driven the world over the years. A simple argument would prove this. If there were no doubts, we would have never progressed beyond the fences of prejudices and wild belief into the domains of logical reasoning and science.

Necessity, we say is the mother of invention. What is necessity? A feeling of discomfort that forces the dissatisfied mind to seek something new, something proper. "Dissatisfied and Discomfort " are the keys here, that fire up the inert human will and spurs it to great heights. Every great invention in human history, without exception has in its roots some kind of Dissatisfaction and discomfort. On close observation, we find these very emotions ( rather States of mind ) produced by "doubts" too. This, seems to me, the most evident and an common-place proof that human mind is still evolving, and for the better.

I am 21, and I have neither the experience nor the knowledge to speak on philosophy and human intelligence, but one singular pattern that I have noticed in myself and others around me is the inverse correlation of the No. of Doubts asked with age. For some reason, I think we ( including me) tend to correlate knowledge with age, and feel awkward to expose our ignorance. This tendency increases with age and sadly it results in the decrease of our learning capability.

Have you ever observed a child? Almost 90% of its waking time is spent in observation, assimilation, classification, hypothesis building ( through imagination) and its verification ( through doubts) and correction. It is no wonder then that a child is the best learner and the best scientist. We were all great scientists at birth, and all through our childhood, without ever having to see the principles of Science written on the back page of the textbooks. It fills me with a strange pride and awe, to think how I ever managed to learn the English and the Hindi alphabet. Strange symbols, associated with something totally unfamiliar(like X for Xylophone, Y for Yatch and Z for Zebra .. i haven't seen the last 2 till date )... Maybe our brain is molded so, but then its also possible that our conscious mind, with its growing influence with age and experience, does play an important part in suppressing our doubts, and effectively preventing ( or at best, reducing the pace of) our learning, creativity and questioning prowess.

One might argue that age is a condition of the mind. Very true. Those who have preserved the child within, from the wild temptations of distractions, peer pressure and social status, have often, seemingly miraculously succeeded in finding something of greatest value. Cliched though, a few examples could demonstrate this: "What was great in a falling apple?" , "Why should one risk one's life telling that the sun was the center of the solar system?", "Why should anybody bother with a thing called search when the domain is not fixed, and ever-changing?", "How did a person ever expect a thing called Wikipedia work, based on philanthropic( remember "Time is money") contributions, whilst Economic theory teaches us that the self-interest guides all activity?" Each instance demonstrates a child-like dream, initially full of uncertainty, but powered by determination and backed by the will of someone who was too stubborn to be defeated.

I was once reprimanded severely ( by one of my favorite Profs) at college for taking the words of the books for granted. I guess I understand his point now. Instead of ignoring OR feeling uneasy about our doubts, all we need to do is to respect and cherish them, for they will be the seeds which will give birth to a higher, more advanced ( and hopefully better) level of ignorance. After all, Steve Jobs had a point when he exclaimed , " Stay Hungry, Stay Foolish ".


PS: I am not an avid blogger... and the above just represents my flow of thoughts, sometimes random, sometimes irrelevant. I'll be glad to receive any feedback to improve.

The Zen is to be present in the present !!!

Hi,

I don't have any concrete matter to post, this being my first blog. However, I shall redirect you to one piece of advice that is concise, simple yet powerful and enigmatic. It is so important that the creators of Python wanted it to be always guiding a hackers thought and design.

Without much ado, here's the collection by Tim Peters:

The Zen of Python, by Tim Peters

Beautiful is better than ugly.
Explicit is better than implicit.
Simple is better than complex.
Complex is better than complicated.
Flat is better than nested.
Sparse is better than dense.
Readability counts.
Special cases aren't special enough to break the rules.
Although practicality beats purity.
Errors should never pass silently.
Unless explicitly silenced.
In the face of ambiguity, refuse the temptation to guess.
There should be one-- and preferably only one --obvious way to do it.
Although that way may not be obvious at first unless you're Dutch.
Now is better than never.
Although never is often better than *right* now.
If the implementation is hard to explain, it's a bad idea.
If the implementation is easy to explain, it may be a good idea.
Namespaces are one honking great idea -- let's do more of those!

Keeping an open mind whilst reading this will present a spectrum of interpretations, from domains ranging from Philosophy to management to programming...