This week's report. On HDTV and iTV.
Why didn't people adopt iTV? (I mean, WHY THE HELL didn't they?) And why are they adopting HDTV?
I've tried everything to make my weekly review move beyond those misearable four lines that are part of my introduction.
OK..another try.
People are sure to make HDTV a hit because....hmm, because, uh....ok, they want sharper pictures and an enriching television watching experience.
Fine. Good, in fact, I've moved way beyond the fourth line.
But....is watching TV an enriching experience? I've never become enriched after watching television, just happy or irritated or sleepy. No, enriched is not the right word.
Now there is nothing else I can find about the damned HDTV in the article I got to review. He doesn't talk any sense(yeah, yeah, he doesn't and you do..)
I'm facing an assignment writing block. Surprisingly, this block doesn't exist as I type out this blog of mine. Ha!
I start yet again to wonder about my mind's amazing capabilities of not doing what it doesn't want. How well this thing makes it distinctions!
Ok, let me get back to my review. How long is it? Hm..should be a page long. It is already filling three quarters of a page! My joy now knows no bounds...I have to just fill another few lines of illogical, ill related lines.
Yes, the review is almost done.
Great!
Now on to the next one.
My brain sighs. "Why don't you let me free for a while?", it says.
So what do you want me to do, I ask.
Something light, it says.
A movie?
Sure!!!
That's it. The next assignment won't be touched for now, I think as I load Swades and settle with my pillow to watch it comfy.
It's going to start.
Goodbye.

Vani Viswanathan

Well, I'm talking about plaiting my hair. Hey, don't dismiss it as something trivial or silly; it could get really irritating, I tell you, as I make yet another, vain, eighth try to plait my hair properly.
It's sometimes a curse to live with long hair, and even a bigger curse if you won't leave it free all the time. Here I am, at times bogged by cultural expectations, and at times by my own irritation, trying to plait my hair and look presentable. At some of these quite rare moments, my plaiting abilities completely fail me. Now, I desperately stare at myself in the mirror, trying to assess how my plait looks. "Is it fine?" Well, sadly, no. There is this huge block of hair in the right showing up unnecessarily...hey, I did try to push that into the plait...but that didn't work. Now there it is, appearing as a new kind of style Americans would probably be willing to adopt( yeah, I've been creating fashion statements here, but I've still not got the plait I wanted!) Hmm, so there I go again, removing the previous plait. Now, (for the ninth time), I'm trying something different. I have fixed some hair pins at all random possible places on my head(!) and have started the procedure again. Lo! The plait was actually turning out to be fine! I put the plait in front and went on to complete it. Oh dear! That spoiled the whole thing. That American style showed up again, and here I am, trying to vent off my irritation caused by the damn thing.
So off I go again, to try plaiting my hair better. Ma, I know what you'll say when you see this - "God save my younger daughter..."
Yeah, God help me and my plait.

Tccch...I sigh looking at the amount of work I've got. Projects, assignments, reports, speeches, presentations and (as if these weren't enough!) homework. I look around helplessly as I struggle to jot down a timetable to finish all these tasks on time.
I just look back to a month ago. December, 2004. No care in the world about what is happening. Extremely bored. Writing nonsense to kill time. And now? Writing sense(!) to take a break off that horrible schedule. I can't beleive I was really jobless just a month back... Whoa! What a whale of a difference a month can make..
I'm really stumped for words now... Just as I was when I was bored. I smile as I think yet again of how the mind always wants whatever is not available. I remember how much I longed to be hands-full with work in that December, which seems long long ago. And now, the mind just asks for time, and more time, so that I can afford that laziness to just get up whenever I want and happily spend time doing nothing at all, or perhaps curl up cozily on that red sofa and watch that amazing movie...
What does it mean to be busy? Well, nothing, except that it creeps in some amount of irritation and unhappiness...aggravated even more with that faint rumbling in your stomach, (as I am experiencing right now) and knowing that to get some food, you got to go out and can't call mom to bring it out to you...
Oh no! My watch shows 8-00 PM. My free time is over. Got to get back to all that maddening work. To all those long hours of staring at the computer and feeling that frustration when Google doesn't show you what you want...
Somebody save me!!!!

My dear Computer,
You are a week old today. And it is just now that you have started something close to functioning properly. I was impressed with all your configuration, and your colour, black, makes you look really cool and I thought you would give me a whale of time. Alas! You made sure you don't start working before you give me hours and hours of back-breaking and eye-straining work and everybody possible either tampered with your settings or gave me advices to do so.
I still can't understand what made you go cranky some, no, most of the time. You cut the internet connection out yourself, simply log off whenever you want...what do you think I am here for? Random people came and tried to do something as I stared quite clueless and watched you get restarted umpteen number of times. Then somebody suggested you might have a virus...boy, I should say you are very quick! You might have barely been online for a couple of hours and so soon you contracted a virus! Well, an anti-virus was right for you.
Well, looks like I should be happy that you started working at least now, though I think you would do better with some more accessories, especially the speakers: I can't hear much from you now! Never mind, I am just praying that you keep working properly as you are now. You got to put up with me fella, I've paid so much to get you here!
Hmm...just keep up the work!
Love,
Vani

Well, I didn't really expect a normal meeting to turn out to something like this, but when it did, I am making sure I enjoy and savour every bit of it.
All this business started when I met this enormously talented and cute guy, liking everything I like (ugh, well, it was just a coincidence) one day. I did not think much when I met him the first time, but I realized what he was, a couple of meetings later. And then started one whole new discovery within me, that I, one who had branded crushes and the like as crap, was actually enjoying one.
And soon, every opportunity of meeting him gave me a whole day of joy. Yeah, I would have barely told him a 'Hi!' but even that was enough to send me whooping amounts of enjoyment. Aha, but it wasn't just this, I was also enjoying that wide smile which I would control at the right moment into just a warm 'Hi!', all those racy and fast- paced heart beats everytime I saw him and just that nice, cosy feeling.... well, I was living life. And seeing all his talents(and of course, coupled with his looks) I was highly impressed and concluded that the standards I had set for somebody I would like weren't that rare at all....
But alas! Well, things didn't really pick up, and now as I write, he is staying here for the last six months of his college life - and graduates this year. And Oh! Sadder than that is the time when I realized he might actually not fit the perfect picture I had framed him into, and I now know that my expectations are, actually, high.
But well, maybe those are just what a crush can guarantee.... those wide smiles (to him) and those wider, wider smiles(to myself!!), those rapid heart beats, that nice, favourite song playing back in my mind everytime.... Yes, I have enjoyed a crush!!!!!!
Vani Viswanathan

19 July, 2004. My second day in NTU, Singapore. All alone. Just trying to settle in the hostel room. Surviving with bread and jam, bun and biscuits. Lost, confused and angry.
Map in hand, I was going about the whole place getting all the settling-down formalities done. My eyes bled (!) as I gave the old fat lady in the Office of Finance $300 (man, that’s huge, isn’t it?) for the hostel fees. Off I went again, running my finger across the campus map and recognizing landmarks, to reach Hall 9, my home for at least a year. As I got ready to climb the seven floors uphill to reach my room, I noticed the chaptas (that’s how we call the Chinese and Singaporeans…god only knows what they call us!!!) involved in ‘ Hall 9 Orientation for Freshers’. My god, what ruckus they made!! I tried to get away from them hidden. I didn’t want to be ragged without any company! Maybe I should look out for Indian seniors. They will help me. They will tell me how to stay away from this ragging (crap). Ah! I thought. ‘That was a nice idea. Now start looking for an Indian.’ I didn’t have to wait long to meet one. I didn’t have to wait long to realize how mistaken I was, too.
I had successfully escaped the chaptas down there. As I was going up, I saw the computer room. Doubtful if I could start using the computers there right away, I went in. hey! There was an Indian! Overjoyed, I approached the girl and got my doubt cleared. Still shy, I didn’t want to ask her for any help. I remained silent. She, however, didn’t.
“Where are you from?” she asked.
“India” I said. That did sound a bit silly, I knew, but you never know. For all you know she might be a local and think I’m one too.
“I know that. Which part of India?” she asked.
“Chennai.” I decided to ask her something too. I asked her what her name was and which course she did, with due respect. (She might be a senior! I’d better be humble!!)
She was Rajashree from Bangalore, Bioengineering, year 1. (Oh! What a waste of respect!!)
After a few formal enquiries, she asked me to come to Canteen 1 at 7 in the night.
“It is an orientation for Indian freshers. Be there at 7.”
Well, I was happy to great limits. More Indians! Probably they are calling us one day to tell us about the conditions here, where to get help, and hey, maybe even how to escape getting ragged by the chaptas!
I was thrilled. By 6-30, I again set off, well - dressed, with a map in hand, to find canteen 1.
As I had guessed, there were a lot of Indians. I wanted to befriend some, but I didn’t know who were freshers and who were seniors. So I looked about the canteen searching for Rajashree. She was nowhere to be found. And boy, there was an Indian stall! I went and bought food. Well, it was at least better than the dull and drab bread. I looked around for a place to sit and finally found an empty one. But the table was full of guys! Hmm…being from a girls’ school, I was totally unaccustomed to interacting with this big a group of guys.
“But hey, you have to learn sometime,” I thought. I went and sat there.
“Who asked you to sit here?”
I looked up.
A thin guy with glasses was asking me this question.
“I didn’t ask anyone permission,” I said, hmm… quite proud of the reply, though without thinking of its consequences.
He was enraged.
“Get up!” he screamed.
“How rude!!” he commented to another.
“Rajashree!” he called.
I was relieved. I could ask her who this irritating guy was, and why he was ordering me about.
She came and I tried to give her a smile.
“Tell her who I am and what she should do here,” he told her.
“Now get lost with her,” he told me.
I followed her blindly, my mind buzzing with questions.
What the hell is happening around here??!!!
*************************

“If you still haven’t realized,” said Rajashree, “its ragging.”
I was dumbstruck as I listened to her detail to me as to how I should give my introduction and so on.
“God!!” I thought. “She has brought me into a trap!”
And so I went to that irritating guy, religiously gave him my intro and did all bizarre things he asked me to do.
After this minor shake-up, we were all lined up and taken to the SRC. There I faced and understood the full face of the ragging business. Sitting there were about 50 seniors, hungrily waiting to rag us, their prey. The 50 of us freshers walked towards them and I felt like I was going to my grave.
Well, the first day was bad for me as I was shaken by their “wonderful” language and mustered enough courage to tell them this fact, only to become an object of ridicule.
My second major shock came when they asked me to do an ad to advertise ‘Kargil’ condoms.
“God!!” I thought. “why did I choose this fate for myself??”
And with great difficulty, I found ‘team’ members (ha!!) who had to be coaxed to do this ad for me, ‘finalized’ a script and put up the ad.
Well, it did take some time for the new shock to set in into me. But once it did, the whole experience was actually turning out to be enjoyable. Getting to know your own batch mates in and out (after all those ceremonies of monotonously repeating ‘He is ------ from --------- doing ------staying in Hall -----. His hobbies are ------‘ , who wouldn’t?), knowing seniors who could help you, well, ‘orientation’ wasn’t that bad after all. It helped me settle down in NTU, find new friends, helped me know whom to approach for what and what to do when faced with a situation completely unexpected. It mentally prepared me to face drastic situations. (The first day in orientation was enough experience!)
Well, maybe it’s just too early to say, but I’m looking for my own sweet revenge the next year!
Vani Viswanathan

“No! I won’t! I won’t!”- me.
“Enough is enough. Take your bag and go out this minute.”- mom.
Teary eyed, with no option on hand, I obeyed mom.
As I think about it today, I really feel how I could have been so stupid to give this reaction for travelling in an unreserved train compartment.
It was about a trip to Trichy. Not until the day of departure did I know that we hadn’t booked our tickets because it was a sudden trip. And so began my first journey in an unreserved train compartment.
Step 1: Getting there about two hours earlier than the train departure time—to get the seats, you see.
Step 2: Train arrival. (very dangerous step!) Brace yourselves as you see the maddening crowd pushing you hither and thither in the wild scramble for seats.
Unknowingly, I was caught in this mad rush too as dad threw three of our bags into the compartment seats to seat the three of us.
Step 3: Comfortably (huh!) seated in the train.
I was saved as I could find a window seat. Mom and dad, however, were stuck with the annoyingly ‘kind’ people who were trying to make place for all those who came into the compartment seeking it.
Step uh, sorry, no more steps, the train has started.
I looked around. (in dismay) a bogie supposed to seat six was sorrowfully bearing 23 people. While women who couldn’t find seats right royally sat on the ground, the men did not have any such botheration. An inch of space available was enough. I looked up to discover (a shock) a man precariously perched on the berth for keeping luggage. Any sudden brake and down he falls.
I glared at mom—a glare enough to shoot almost a hundred questions right from “ Are-you-happy-with-this-place?” to “Is-this-trip-that-necessary?” Mom wriggled uncomfortably.
Unable to bear the agony, I fished out my physics book to read Electrostatics. Absolutely important, I thought. I spent five minutes reading with concentration until commotion broke out in the compartment. A lady had become violent (yeah, really!) as one of the men in the compartment kept dozing and falling on her. It took the ‘judicial’ mind of an old couple to ‘resolve’ the matter.
I returned to reading. “Charge can never..” As though the previous interruption wasn’t enough, new ones came – kids openly peeping into what I was trying to read – they irritated me more than anything else and I gave my fiery eyed glare at them. Shaken, they went back. Very proud of myself, I resumed my reading. “ Charge can never exist..”
“Chips?” a packet of chips somehow made its way into my book. I looked up and saw the mother of the kids offering me food.
“No thanks.” I neatly denied.
But she persisted. My tolerance level somewhere close to its peak, I took a few and murmured a thanks. Seeing this reaction, a few others started offering me goodies to eat. I took pinches of all of them while giving a Did-I-ask-you-for-this look.
Eating over. I fished out the Electrostatics page again. Where was I? Oh yes, charge can never exist. What, I thought.
“My God! What a conclusion I have made!! Charge can never exist?” I looked around for that sentence. Oh, it was “Charge can never exist in fractions.”
Finally page 1 over.
Turning to page 2. The page suddenly turned orange. I looked around and then up. The father of the nosy kids explained. “Sorry ma, Fanta….kids you know..”
I grunted. Near peak of tolerance level reached. I knew I would break any moment. I prayed to God to take care of me. With great difficulty, I completed page 2. Now to page 3.
PLOP! Water. I looked up. The father gave an apologetic look. “Not me,” he said, “ its raining.”
I looked out. Soon it became a downpour. Exasperated, I pulled out my bag and shut and threw my bag inside. Electrostatics! All I needed at this hour. Water soon splashed on me through the window and I tried shutting it, in vain. Sensing my ‘distressing’ a flurry of people came to my rescue and closed it.
The compartment din was soon overcome by the sound of heavy rain. All became quiet and the stillness rocked all to sleep.
When I was awake, half of the compartment was empty. SriRangam had taken them and the train was speeding to Trichy.
Ahh! Finally it came. The rain had stopped long back and trichy was as hot as ever. We got down.
“Akka!!” I heard. I looked and saw my delightful two year nephew running towards me. Soon we were going home. Well, that train journey wasn’t as awful as I had thought. Though pesky, the people I met, mostly from the backward sections of the society were as helpful as ever. These people, I felt, were much better than the ‘highly civilized’ people of the society.
Hmmm…never had I thought I would stumble upon such discoveries in an unreserved train compartment!

Vani Viswanathan
16/06/2004

Yet another ‘culture’ fight between me and mom. These regular fights make me ponder over what importance we attach to all our cultural practices and whether they hold any relevance today.
Right from when I wake up to when I go to bed, culture rules my day. Ok, so let me start from when I get up.
“Get up, be up and about, NOW!!” screams dad. “You will ruin your health by sleeping after the sun rises.”
WHAT!! Well, give me proof. Or let me see it fairly. The sun ‘went to sleep’ at 6 P.M. the previous evening. And me?? At 11 in the night. So when the sun can claim a 12-hour sleep, can’t I even ask for 8 hours? Try arguing this way, and all you get is a nice shelling to start your day.
After repeated yelling to take a bath, I come out and start getting ready to go to school and pester mom to serve me food.
“Absolutely nothing called prayers comes about your day,” sighs mom. (And I sigh even more)
Well, this is a daily ritual and the day doesn’t seem to dawn without this. Again, I try telling them about school prayer, and about how it is enough to have devotion at heart and that it is not necessary to SIT, fold hands and pray. Hmph, bad luck! Not accepted and I get branded as an impudent girl.
Thankfully no direct interference in school, though indirect influences still exist. (Mom’s ‘Take care your bindi doesn’t get erased, make a new one if it does’ makes me shiver and frantically get a new bindi if it gets erased.)
Back home. Its 6 P.M. and I realize (rather late!!) that my nails are long, that it is high time I comb my hair and that I have to submit my stitching assignment tomorrow. Alas! The deadly (for me) hour has come; none of these activities are permissible.
Why I can’t do any of these things after 6 P.M. I can never understand. Maybe such a rule would have been relevant before Edison invented the electric bulb but now – when lights can make sure a whole cricket match takes place in the night – how are these valid? I can surely trace my lost needle or take care my nails or hair don’t fly away with the light on. So why the need for these rules?
Well, looks like how much ever the world changes, these rules will always be a part of our lives. No matter how much I try, I never succeed in convincing people out of these rules. Hmm.. when will we become sensible?

Vani Viswanathan
18/11/2004