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And so finally, there was one. Jambu has left this sleepy hamlet long back for the glitz, glamour and bright lights of downtown Jersey City. Today, Golu also left us to sing odes to Odin as a modern day viking in the icy Nordic tundra of Minneapolis. That leaves just little ole me flying the flag of unemployment at Stony Brook (Shake, BC, Rishu, Krack, Lao et al are still at the receiving end of academia). Before long, I too will be gone (to fly that very same flag from India, that is). So as my American sojourn winds to an end, I would like to tearily reminisce and nostaligically look back on my time here. NOT.
After all, why cry when you can laugh. To that end, I have once again started collecting anecdotes and humourous outtakes (submissions accepted) of life@SB which I shall publish here as soon as I have enough. And anecdotes from earlier, too. Also, spring is here. More reason to be cheery.
Though there might be a few sappy ones in there too. NOT? NOT.
Till then, never fear, for Italian Spiderman is here:
And this is for those who dislike those irrtating photo-tag thingies on facebook.
PS: A busted laptop adapter, and wireless unconnectivity have sapped my will to write. Oh, and I’ve been lazy too. Really.
PPS: I met a madman in the bus today, on the way to drop Golu off at the airport. He was quite polite and surprisingly well-informed, and took it upon himself to violate my ear all throughout that part of the trip with his knowledge of India and his views on why India is such a nice place as opposed to America, and the occasional question about whether certain species of animals are found in india or not. Rather than laugh him off and ignore him, I nodded and answered at all the appropriate places, letting him carry on his lecture without the slightest trace of disinterest or annoyance. I could never bring myself to do that, even if he might not be all there. Also, I was afraid he might stab me.
A frustrating time it is for all during this period of economic uncertainity, global recession and all. It seems Pitch and Pay headquarters is also not immune to this period of turmoil. But rest assured, things will settle soon, and Jaskon and co will be back.
Till then, the good Eric Idle is always there to cheer us up.
Krack does not like logarithms. Apparently, he is not convinced of their utility and considers them overrated. He does not see why they should exist or be used when all they do is provide an easy way out to solving a problem. While John Napier was unavailable for comment (he’s been dead about four hundred years), the Maths majors Doga and Lao had a few issues with the validity of that thesis. But they let it slide, sensing the potential for comedic fodder.
So, earlier today, Doga, Lao, Vats and Krack are smoking when talk shifts to the humanitarian and economic crisis in Zimbabwe. With inflation estimated at 231 million percent (in July), and the recent printing of 100,000,000,000,000 Zimbabwean dollar notes (that’s the denomination, not the number of notes printed) which are expected to become worthless in a few days, they’re not having fun in Zimbabwe. But Doga was intent on having fun with Krack. The following conversation (more or less) ensues:
Doga: Dude, inflation in Zimbabwe is really out of control. Did you know that they are now using the log scale for economic transactions?
Krack: (oblivious to a grinning Lao) Are you kidding me? They’ve gone back to the barter system?
Now Doga and Lao are confused. They look at each other quizzically for a few seconds before requesting clarification.
Doga and Lao: (together) What barter system?
Krack: (looking confused) You know, what you were just saying. With logs. Lakdi.
Doga and Lao finally got it (‘it’ being the direction Krack was heading in, not his definition of the barter system), and started laughing. And since a fun story bears repeating, almost everyone else heard of the log scale too. And they laughed too. After enjoying a particularly hearty laugh at Krack’s expense, the engineer in Vats finally awakes, and he asks Doga the doubt that has been nagging him since the beginning of the story: ‘Does that mean that they now use powers of e on their currency notes?’
PS: This conversation really took place. The dialogue has been mostly made up, though.
PPS: Krack’s alternative to solving problems using logarithms: ‘Use a calculator’.
Khallas. Phineesh. Master’s studies over.
But now what?
PS: Merry Christmas 
Based (very loosely) on a true story.
It was a dark and slightly rainy evening and Shake was cooking dinner. BC and Golu were helping, when Golu decided it would be a great idea to make papads. Not regular papads or pappadams or appalams or whatever. The kind that looks and tastes like a giant circular frym. Yeah, those. So, Golu got straight down to it. Got out the kadhai, cooking oil, and the aforementioned papads. Before long, there were somewhere between ten and fifteen lip-smackingly appealing papads on the dinner table. This is when strange things started happening.
BC and Shake were busy with the dal-chawal, and Golu had returned to his supine position on the bed with his stomach-top (well, his laptop, but its never on his lap). Shake, according to the story he would later tell Jambu, suddenly notices something awry: the papad count seems a bit less than it was before. Shrugging it off as possibly a counting mistake, but making a mental note of the number of papads remaining, Shake goes back to his valiant and thankless job of feeding the hungry hordes.
A few moments later, Shake goes to place dinner on the table and ring the dinner bell to trigger the Pavlovian responses that bring the rest of us to the table. It was then that he notices that this time, the number of papads on the plate had definitely dropped. He was right! Thievery! Skullduggery! Right under his nose. Seeing no evidence as to who might have perpetrated this offense, Shake decides that its time to call in a prefessional.
Jambu was sitting motionless with his laptop (placed where it was supposed to be placed), in his usual meditative pose, eyes transfixed on the screen, doing what only great men know and can explain. Shake hesitantly made a small noise to attract the master’s attention. Jambu turned his head ever so slightly to acknowledge him. Shake told him of his predicament. Jambu gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, to dismiss Shake and let him know that he was on the case.
Jambu cracked his knuckles, set aside the laptop, did a quick recon of the surroundings and set Shake and BC on a perimeter watch before taking up a camouflage position on the sofa with his laptop. Then the waiting started.
The minutes seemed to pass like hours. The strain was showing on Shake and BC, who were desperate to get it over with. Jambu alone maintained his composure, but he made a note of the body language of Shake and BC. Could it be that they knew more than they were letting show? Shake started to get nervous under Jambu’s steely gaze. BC started sweating. Was it just the waiting getting to them? Or was one of them the real criminal? Putting his best Poirot-esque deductive skills to work, Jambu ran through the scenarios in his mind. Shake could easily have slipped out of the kitchen and nicked the papads when no one was looking. BC also was unwatched the whole time. It would have been easy to escape attention and take a few unseen bites. Jambu had his suspects, and they knew he was watching them. It was just a matter of which one would crack first.
In between the unbearable suspense, something happens which takes everyone off-guard. Golu, who was assumed to immobile till further notice on his bed, appears in the dining area and, oblivious to the inquisition that Jambu was planning on Shake and BC, took a papad and almost instantaneously, it disappears down his mouth. Shake and BC are relieved to be let off Jambu’s suspect list and Jambu is flummoxed that he missed this most usual of suspects. When questioned, Golu confesses matter-of-factly to have consumed the rest of the papads. The remaining three curse him and warn him with dire consequences if he touches another papad. I think he managed to sneak another one while having dinner, though.
PS: Apparently, this really took place a day or two ago, while I was at college (no, not studying). Given earlier experiences, I am glad I wasn’t there. Masala has been added in many places to make it suitable for public consumption. Oh, I have so many more Golu stories, and only one lifetime to write them down. The Jambu stories, of course, will take many many lifetimes, so I shall only attempt to touch on the highlights in any more stories you might see here.
Have a great weekend everyone. Here’s some Kaki King for your listening pleasure. And because I love you all so much, here’s some more.
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