Blogging sans a title...

Blogging under periods of mental turmoil on a Friday night is great fun... I'm here, lying on the comfy confines of my warm bed, with some Jaeger Meister warming up my already 'arctic cold' senses, when I'm fumbling to make out the 'm' from the 'y' on my keyboard, and yet managing to pull off the entire act with remarkable precision... when I pat myself on the back for no good reason, when I'm delirious with joy for no good reason, when my mind's spinning with a gazillion thoughts for no good reason...

Electric soup... thudz 'pure dead brilliant' mayt!

I've heard it rains a lot in Scotland, now how true is this? 'Aye mayt, nodda lod... jusda teeny weeny bid, nae bother mayt...', sorry, can you repeat that the lad said, 'psst... dude did you get that, asked Guldu...' pat came the reply from the cabbie 'nodda lod auf rayn mayt, jusda bid... thudz ull'... too flabbergast to respond, the lad resigned to his fate, must be the air pressure in the aircraft, so much for first time travelling, wondered the lad!

Guldu felt a nudge, and woke up with a start, 'hey... the board reads Eurohostel', he said, 'we'll meet at the induction for international students tomorrow' said the lad, who was somewhere in the transition between frenzied excitement and numbing fatigue... 'Aye mayt, 29 St. Mungo Avenue... 13 quid please'... the lad felt something struck him really hard... et voila it was the 'gibberish' which rattled him out of sweet precious sleep. The cabbie helped him with his bags, and said again, '13 quid mayt' , flexing his arm with an intimidating eagle, and a huge anchor tattooed oh his left arm... 'err... not sure I understood, how much?' asked the embarassed lad... the cabbie pulled out a piece of paper, and scribbled '13 Pounds please'... blushingly the lad handed over the money and the cabbie zoomed away.

Someone come running by with all gusto, too tired to react the lad just watched the guy close in... 'Hi, I'm EmEm, so you finally arrived... let me help you with your bags, this way...' of course this was the same EmEm who'd very graciously agreed to host the lad temporarily until the student accommodation opened... in a fit of delirium, the lad had forgotten that he'd called EmEm from the airport, informing him of his arrival!

'Did you understand the cabbie at all?' asked EmEm, 'eh no, not much, he sounded as though he had verbal diarrhoeoa...' said the lad. EmEm burst out laughing... 'Welcome to Glasgow, and you got your first dose of Glaswegian' said EmEm! Soon enough, 'Nae bother, wee, quid...' etc. were to become an inseparable part of the lad's new Glaswegian life. 

'How do I get to the University, guess I'll finish all the enrolment stuff...' said the lad, whose enthusiasm had managed a come back, thanks to some Indian bread and curried lentils (a.k.a roti and dal ;-))... 'I'll take you there, it's just a short walk' said EmEm. Walking through a maze of buildings, every sight gave the lad goosebumps of excitement... the sheer variety of architecture, a harmonious blend of ancient and modern, culminating with a grand red sandstone building - 'Royal College Building - Department of Electronic and Electrical Engineering' read the board... 'I'll wait for you here, said EmEm... in went the lad, and found himself in a huge hall where scores of students were being enrolled, he didn't have to wait for very long for a the customary 'mugshot', and had a shiny new student card in no time... 'Welcome to Strathclyde!' said the woman behind the desk. Informing his folks back home of all uneventful proceedings, the lad now felt his sinews ache... screaming, begging, pleading for delicious sleep!

The lad felt something radiating up his face, he groggily opened his eyes, only to let the sunlight caress his visage... 'slept well?' asked EmEm... 'oh like a log... seems like a beautiful day' remarked the lad. 'I'll help you move in to the student hall' said EmEm. After a sumptuous breakfast of eggs-sunny side up, some toast and marmalade, washed down with copious amounts of tea, the lad readied his bags for the move to the student hall. Deafening silence greeted the lad at the student hall... 'Blimey! why is it so silent in here... this place looks deserted' said the lad to EmEm... who replied back 'This was supposed to be a lunatic asylum bang on in the city centre, and was converted into a student hall sometime ago, even I lived here before I realized I would lose my sanity...' grinned EmEm, who then took leave, and promised to meet up the next day. The lad reciprocated with a feeble smile, 'Indeed, imagine living here' he thought... It wouldn't take too long for the lad to realize that this 'asylum' would soon become the epicentre of all fun and frolic in Glasgow!

The door of flat 2/7 creaked open, 'somebody's already here, wonder who my flatmates are...' said the lad to himself. Suddenly, a huge hand stroked the lad's back... startled he turned around... 'Hi, I'm Ess, just arrived today, looks like we're flatmates for the rest of the year then...' said a stout guy (back to the present - last seen of, this guy was busy setting 'benchmarks' in growing horizontally ;-))... 'I've seen this guy somewhere... where, where, where?...' suddenly as in a flash of enlightenment, cried out the lad, 'but yes! did you ever take the Brilliantz course at EmSeeSee in Bangalore... I'm sure I've seen you there...' (back to the present - the course at EmSeeSee in bangalore was of course just a pretext, for people went there for an altogether different reason... something more earthly ;-) more delineations in a future post). 'Bingo man... some memory you've got eh...' said Ess, and squeezed the lad's hand so forcefully, that the lad howled in pain... Indeed Ess was also from Bangalore, and the lad instantly gelled with him, and gave him a nick name that very instant... 'Muggah, I'm Cheeky...' said the lad, grinning widely... ' any idea who our other flatmate is?' asked Cheeky... 'first things first, I think your memory deserves a celebration, let's head out for a drink...' guffawed Muggah ;-)

Britannia bounty...

Mama mia, here I go again... Ghum hai kisi ke pyar mein... The winner takes it all, the loser standing small... familiar faces walking in and out of the hostel room... raucous talk... people disappearing into the crowd... a train whistling it's way along a bridge... CTR's benne masala dosa melting in the mouth... the lad was jolted rather abruptly from his sweet reverie... 'Ladies and gentlemen,this is your Captain, we will touch down in approximately 45 minutes, please fill in the white disembarkation cards in your seat pockets'... fishing out one of the many Parker pens he'd received as farewell gifts, the lad got to the arduous task of filling out answers to very arbitrary questions, so very idiosyncratic of those disembarkation cards, 'what a waste of paper' he thought. Suddenly, 'Aap ko Hindi aati hai?', 'Haan ji, zaroor'... this was a question the elderly Gujarati woman asked... she took out her burgundy jacket British passport, and asked the lad to fill out her disembarkation card, for although 'British', she couldn't really read or write English! She said she hadn't bothered to learn the language as she hardly ever ventured out of the Gujarati dominion in Cardiff... so much for 'efforts' towards societal integration, the lad thought.

'Ladies and gentlemen, we have just landed at London Heathrow, Terminal 4, the local time is 0745...' announced the Captain... over the course of the flight, the lad had noticed someone in the opposite aisle headbanging to music almost all the while, having spotted this person inside the terminal building, the lad's curiosity was 'naturally' aroused... he walked up to the person, and enquired his whereabouts, and was thrilled to know that the person (who shall be referred to as Guldu) was also from Bangalore, headed for Glasgow for a Master's in some arcane subject... what was more interesting was the fact that Guldu claimed his family owned the famous 'Hotel Janata' in Malleswaram, Bangalore (behold, Bangaloreans would perhaps need no introduction to this divine eatery, for the uninitiated, a blog entry will lurk it's 'delicious' head pretty soon down the line :P)

Passengers were being hoarded into a bus packed like a can of sardines, headed for Terminal 1 for 'Her Majesty's immigration service'... the lad noticed long lines of people awaiting to be let in, tourists, random travellers, asylum seekers, potential immigrants, (il)legal immigrants, students, virtually people in all shapes, colours, sizes and of course passports for that one 'coveted' stamp, probably changing the course of their lives forever...

The lad and Guldu got into a line that read 'All other passports', for their were lines clearly demarcated for Brits, EU nationals and the like, and others for 'foreigners'. 'Papers please...' asked the woman behind the counter... lo and behold, one of Indian origin (who later acknowledged being from Saddi Ludhiana), the first taste of Desi Brittania (not the biscuits :P) the lad thought. Having been asked innumerable questions like why are you here, what do you intend to do, have you ever suffered from TB or brain fever (thanks for reminding me I have one ;))... the lad had half a mind to yell out loudly at this 'Entry clearance officer'... finally the officer pointed to a stamp that said 'Gratis Courtesy' in the lad's passport, 'what does this mean', asked the officer, at this moment, the lad proudly said, I'm here on a 'British Chevening Scholarship', and I didn't have to pay for my visa in India... 'Oh Congratulations on that and welcome to the UK!' said the officer stamping the lad's passport with a 'Admitted into the UK' seal. The lad waited for Guldu who was endlessly grilled, and was finally among the 'privileged' to be admitted into old Blighty.

In all the immigration melee, the connecting flight to Glasgow was missed, and with time to spare for the next one, the lad realized he had to inform his folks back home, who the lad was sure were frantically waiting for his call after touchdown. The telephone needed coins, lo and behold, there was a kiosk selling newspapers and other trinkets... the lad who was accustomed to being pampered to a hot mug of divinely delicious filter coffee with the local daily, simply could not imagine beginning the day without a newspaper, et voila, his eyes chanced upon a copy of the Guardian, the price read £1... immediately the lad got the shock of his life... '80 Rs. for a newspaper !?!?!... c'mon, this is ridiculous' he thought! But the inveterate craving for the inexplicable joy of flipping through pages of a newspaper, and getting to the crossword section soon triumphed, and voila, the first purchase was made using the 'powerful' Pound Sterling...

Having called his folks, and promising to call back again from Glasgow, the lad watched Guldu make his first purchase in 'phoren' land... a pack of Marlboro fags... the nicotine had just made it's way into Guldu's lungs, when the speaker blared out loudly... 'British airways announces the departure of it's flight to Glasgow'... extinguishing a half smoked fag, that too a phoren Marlboro 'wrenched' Guldu's heart...'just one more fag man' said Guldu, adding to the lad's consternation... the lad egged on Guldu, who relented hesitatingly... Glasgow beckoned, and the duo were finally off to the departure gate.

The plane soared towards Glasgow, and soon enough the lad spotted the River Clyde, and few landmarks he'd seen in pictures and read about... 'that's the river Clyde dude' remarked the lad to groggy eyed Guldu... soon enough the lad and Guldu found themselves waiting for their baggage. A svelte girl walked towards them... introducing herself as Kathy... 'I'm a volunteer to help international students find their way' said Kathy, with a wide smile, and ensuring that the lad and Guldu had no unanswered questions... at least for the moment. Armed with brochures and maps, the duo now made their way to the row of Black cabs... 'Hi there, I need to go to 29, St. Mungo's Avenue and my friend needs to go to the Eurohostel, please...' said the lad... 'Nae bother mate, new to Glasgow eh, hop in, cheers...' said the cabbie...

When SentiMeantAll...

It was the day of the 18th of September, 2003, a very eventful day in the life of a young lad... the ambience pockmarked with a juggernaut of excitement, last minute and painstaking checks were being carried out... raucous sounds of do you have this... do you have that... are all the documents safe... pervaded the atmosphere, broken intermittently by a scurry of phone calls, wishing the lad all success in his future endeavours. This was the day the lad had anxiously awaited for nearly six months now, with feverish fervour on one hand, and trembling trepidation on the other... old Blighty finally beckoned... 

Finally, the moment to bid adieu to the cosy room in the apartment that had been his abode for time immemorial arrived, and he did so with a heavy heart... tugging his bags outside into the boot of the cab. Seated in the front of the cab were the lad and his bum chums K and P, with the lad's parents and aunt seated behind. An eerie of pronounced silence filled most part of the journey to the airport, with a minestrone of emotions ruling the minds of the lad and his parents. The lad enthusiastically looking forward to the experience that awaited him in Glasgow, for he had managed to eke out a scholarship to pursue a Master's in Electrical engg. at Glasgow... and his parents of course filled with their fair share of concerns of how the lad would sustain himself in an alien environment, devoid of motherly affection and fatherly attention.  The lad tried his best to enliven the rather drab atmosphere by cracking a few jokes here and there, with Radio city's RJ Chaitanya trying his best to entertain people about to pull their hair out due to the choc-a-bloc traffic. 

The cab pulled into the parking lot, and the bags were offloaded into trolleys. The group was now joined by a few more relatives and well-wishers, all wishing the lad and cheering up his mother in particular who was visibly moved at the thought of seven seas separating her from her only child, with his father being his ever cheerful self, giving the lad invaluable last minute pointers about anything and everything, something that was a treasured aspect of the lad's life. The bags were checked in, and with time coming to a standstill at the sight of leaving behind all these people who so fondly doted on the lad, he desperately wished if only each and everyone in the group could also accompany him to his destination. The speakers were blaring out the 'dreaded' boarding call, and the moment to part ways had finally arrived, the lad hugged his parents, whispering a word of solace to his mother, who was by now full of tears... his father patted him on the back and wished him the best of luck. Holding back tears in his own eyes, the lad trudged ahead to finish awaiting formalities... with one last look behind, he could see the smiling face of his parents and friends, which filled him with renewed vigour to take all new experiences in his stride.

Glancing at his boarding pass, the now excited lad started pondering about his maiden flight across the Arabian sea, above the Persian Gulf, over Iran and Turkey, hovering above the Caucasian mountains, entering Europe over Bulgaria, continuing over Central Europe, before touching down at Heathrow. He turned on his walkman, listening to soothing tunes of Hariharan from a latest flick... when suddenly he noticed someone come and sit beside him. The guy was tall and lanky, with dark glasses, and was sipping some water, and reading a newspaper... indeed the lad was all excited to see the cricketeer Venkatesh Prasad sitting beside... trying to start a conversation, shyly and sheepishly, then a cricket afficionado, the lad of course asked him for an autograph, to which the cricketeer readily obliged. He enquired the lad as to where he was bound, and wished him luck.

The view from the window seat on the Sahara airlines flight was enjoyable, and so was the food, and the sight of svelte flight attendants to behold, with a graceful 'Sahara Pranam'. Landing in Bombay, the lad struggled with his bags, and finally managed to check them in at the British airways counter... but there was a hitch, his bags were over the limit, and he was either asked to offload some baggage, or cough up a fee for excess baggage, the attendants were out of earshot to his pleas that some concession be made to a first time student flyer. Now, he was in a quandary... offloading anything out of his bags was out of question, for it contained all the essentials for his initial sustenance, which included an ambrosial selection chosen and painstakingly prepared by his mother. After some haggling, some concession was made and the airline was content with an amount paid for excess baggage. With all the hullaballoo done with, the lad called his anxious parents back in Bangalore to inform them of his almost uneventful journey, and assured them that he would call back once at Heathrow.

The British airways flight was crowded with sleepy people, and bawling babies, and the lad managed to locate his aisle seat, and was just twiddling his thumbs and looking around. With echoing sounds of 'fasten your seat belts please', the aircraft finally soared high into the skies, bound for Heathrow. An emotional hotch potch was brewing in the lad's mind, the excitement and apprehension of what lay ahead in store in a foreign country with the agony of having left behind his trusted people and places... the rest of the flight was filled with reverie, marked by intermittent attempts at trying to catch a few winks... Heathrow was just a touch down away! 

... I somehow ended up listening to the song 'Oh Hansini' from a yester year flick Dil Vil Pyar Vyar, last evening, which triggered an avalanche of memories of when I left India for Scotland almost five years ago... I thus thought of writing down what exactly I experienced in my initial days in a foreign land as a multi part series... more to come :-)

Of neurons and neanderthal notions...

I hate sunday evenings, for I spend most sunday evenings cribbing about how quickly the weekend went past, and of course in preparation for the 'dreaded' monday morning blues. Today's 'monday morning blues' were overcome in bed, for I realized I didn't have to hurriedly get to my office desk, with 2 big monitors (not the lizards... more of the display screens ;)) greeting me, for it's a holiday in serene scenic Switzerland... called the 'federal fasting day'... the rationale of which completely beats me, anyway, that's a different thing altogether, since Switzerland has managed to keep me continually surprised for almost 3 years of my existence here on a lot of inane counts ;)

Having hibernated and lollygaged on blogging for a while now, nothing short of a swift kick on the behind was essential to get those rusty 'blogging neurons' cranked up :)... and lo and behold, should I say I'm back with a bang ;)... enough of tomfoolery... coming to serious business now, when I tell 'curious' people what I'm trying to search for in the world of brain research, batting many an eyelid, I get perplexed stares as though I come from an extraterrestrial dimension, where 'discussing' brains is something only for the brainless :)

When I say I study brain function by building computational models, I'm asked questions like isn't it the job of psychiatrists to study the brain, do you work with 'insane' people, do you perform brain surgeries :D etc. and more so as I'm not 'qualified' to be a neuroscientist, with an engineering degree... I laughed out of my life when an elderly relative back in Bangalore once asked, why are you studying neuroscience after engineering, don't you think you would go mad yourself trying to fix mad people :D...

With all candour, though my convictions for this switch remain unshaken hitherto, regardless of the kind of questions I face, there's a fundamental awareness that seems to be lacking, this awareness fuelled by curiosity amongst a certain strata of educated, well-to-do, 'scholarly' people. Agreed that fields of research are rather abstruse by themselves and that not everyone need know all the nitty gritties, but what's disappointing is the fact that callous apathy seems to override mindsets, rather than the inquisition to venture beyond known realms. Ranting under the hot sun, with a majestic view of Lac Leman, and the alps in the foreground is rather fun I must admit ;)... so what would I do in my capacity to contribute my 2 cents worth to try to bring about awareness of any kind... be 'aware' of this space ;)