This day....

I find this terribly hilarious and the fact that its on phdcomics.com proves that grad students have a warped sense of humor. This valentines day I'm going to dedicate to all the grad students out there in the world (this pathetically proves that I have no valentines to celebrate....hehe)

Cheers y'alll

Leaving on a Jet Plane.....

Spicy sambhar, chicken biriyani, soft idlis, tamil cinema, the street where I grew up in the past 21 years, adorable but irritating neighborhood kids, gully cricket, my room filled with posters of tennis role models, childhood friends - the ones I went to school with, others I played gully cricket, the local ground where I played a million cricket matches in reality and another million replayed in dreams, the marina, too many familiar sights.......hold on, hold on, brain overheating.....overwhelming emotions, coming up too fast. Gotta stop :))

Im leaving for my hometown, hustling bustling Chennai, India in less than a week. Three weeks of being a spoilt brat and be taken care of mom's cooking and care. I dont have to worry about cooking or getting my fingers burnt or doing my laundry. Thats not all Im looking forward to, I need the next few weeks for some good time away from all the research work and courses. Here I am finishing my final exams, tying up loose ends before I leave, reports to type out and presentations to work on. Its necessary I need to get this work done now because I have less than 48hours after coming back from India to present my first conference paper in San Jose, California. Thats why I had to neglect my blog and stopped visiting any other blogs as well.

So, there you have it folks, all those who stopped by my blog and decided to holler, Im hollerin back to ya......Im leaving on a Jet Plane.

My number system

1. My first conference paper written, accepted and published. Writing the first one is the hard work; so sayeth the wise men.

2. The number of assignments and test that I had in one terrible week along with the deadline for paper submission.

3. The number of days I went sleepless that week.

4. The 4th One Day International cricket match between India and Sri Lanka, that I watched inspite of all the work.

5. The number of hours I played Baldurs Gate at a stretch after my hectic week.

6. The number of movies I saw in the weekend after all the work.

7. The number of my friends who party as a group every weekend.

8. The number of rounds I had in the party.

9. From 9pm to 9am we partied.

10. Is the number of times I swore I wont do booze again the next day morning when I woke up with a monstrous hangover.

Swearing

This topic has been long overdue and been resigned to the back burner for a long time. Why? Just go over the comments section of my last meaningful post. SP and venus came out strongly against swearing.

Venus went onto mention what her parents told her about swearing " one swears when one does not know enough word-power". I totally agree with this and it has to be the best thing to say to children as parents or responsible adults. But what about educated adults who completely understands the meaning of the word and chooses to use it. Why does one say them?

SP, came up with a generic statement that "swearing is bad for health" which was as funny as one of his million PJ's he used to crack while we were classmates :P He was trying to be funny. But when I came out against it and his favorite nemesis, Intern, decided to support me, he had to give a lecture on controlling frustration and anger and letting them die down rather than venting out in frustration and encouraging them. All of what he said was taken in good humor and I hope SP, you take what I have to say in good spirit.

I never condone or encourage swearing or anger. In fact Ive had a bad history of controlling my anger. So, the following is just my opinion on it and Im not going on support for those who use it as frequently as articles in a sentence. Im stating my stand on swearing not what situations lead me into swearing due to frustration or anger.

No emotion can be classified and clearly demarcated as good or bad, they just dont come in binary anymore. I can never classify my emotional balance at any time as grief or happiness. There are times when I tend to be moody but not depressed, cheerful but not joyous. What Im trying to say is that there are shades of grey in these emotions. I often swear in frustration but never in anger. There is a difference between the two and hence the roundabout explanation involving colors like grey, black and white :P So, am I saying that swearing when frustrated is acceptable? No, but just like you need an outlet for grief or happiness and given that we are not saints or priests, there is a need for an outlet for frustration.

Looking at the big picture; grief, anger or frustration are no different from each other. Bottomline, they are emotions. Each emotion given to its characteristic symptoms. Often Ive seen people who are really pissed in life or really happy and they have to get either emotion out of their system. Once that is done, they are more or less back to their normal self.

The best thing about swearing when you are frustrated is that its immediately out of the system. Almost like a restart button and after that, you look at the reason why you are frustrated in a whole new way. Let me back this up with a small sample of how and when I swear. My tennis coach always used to say that it was absolutely OK to just shout or swear when you miss a simple shot or when things just arent going your way. Infact he showed me how to throw the tennis racquet on the ground without breaking. And I used to let it rip, when I thought I was playing a match incompetently. My roar could be heard 5 courts down the line. It worked in two ways. One, I immediately forgot about the point and was focussed for the next point. Two, it pushed me to play better, kind of like having your coach shout at you for missing an easy shot. Putting things back in perspective, it worked for me.

I stand by what I said earlier. I never swear at people. Too often Ive see a group of close friends swearing at each other because its a fun thing to do, like experimenting new things. Ive also seen the same group of friends swear using the exact same words, while they are having a fight. The reaction is blindingly different. Its like, when you mean those words, the exact same words seem to have a different connotation to it. So, I never swear at people.

Swearing aint cool or hep or forgiveable but its a valid emotion for frustration or anger.

Happy Diwali!!!

A happy festive diwali for all you guys out there!!!! Have fun!!!

I know I havent been blogging much of late. Am under a big pile of work. Papers to write, assignments to finish and *gulp* a test, crammed in this week. So, should get back to active blogging after this week finished. Cheers!!

The system shall not affect me.........the rantings of a grad student

Why should all grad students, I emphasize engineering grad students be portrayed as depressed, tired and stressed out lab rats. Is it a stereotype or a comfort level we give in to? Arent we the people who are supposed to be inventing groundbreaking technology so it can reach the common man and whilst capitalist conglomerates permitting, bridging the technology barrier. Or are we just supposed to be spending hours inside labs or in front of computer trying to improve something so that our advisors can get increased monetary grants and hopefully continue funding us? Will the research we do, matter to the scientific society or will it be dropped as a hot cake as soon as we finish our dissertation.

I spend close to 5-6 hours a day inside the "Clean Room" aka fabrication lab unlike computer engineers who spend most of time in front of computers. I have to wear full lab suits, shoe covers, head covers, face masks, gloves and sometimes protective goggles, because the devices we fabricate (design and make) are in the nanometer scale in fact smaller than the hair's breadth and our skin flakes. Imagine dressed up in a bunny suit like that for 5-6 hours a day. So what if I have to, depression cannot be imposed on me for having to be that way.

I also have tough deadlines to meet. Plus I also have to constantly prove to my advisor that Im more competent than the next guy to receive continued assistantships and tuition scholarship grants. That aint going to get me stressed. So, if Im not stressed or depressed why am I ranting and raving. Well, actually I am, and Im right now coping it by writing about it :)

According to the grad student etiquette laid down by PhdComics, you should never ask a grad student about his research or the progress made on his thesis. Research can make or break a person because one day you get great results and get accolades from your advisor but the next day your experiment can fuck you up real good. *read as my current situation, thanks to my fellow chinese grad student, whos fucked up my machine for an experiment he had to do. Also, my motivation for this post. Wait till I lay my hands on him. I should mix some laxative in the Campbells soup he drinks daily or invite him home for dinner and decapacitate him with my spiciest mix of Indian dishes, grrr*

But I aint going to give in to the system and be just another grad student. Because it aint me, my countenance might give you the impression Im brooding but Im always cheerful. And thats how Im going to go through grad school, you want to know why because I love what I do and theres no other place I want to be. Cheers!

The year gone by

A month ago, my first year in the US has passed, a fact my mom never forgets to mention everytime I talk to her. She can't believe that its been a year since I moved and Im like "its already a year? phew time flew fast". I guess when you are in the process of constantly learning things, like how to cook, adapt, do laundry, drive and clean, it looks like a year well spent. I suppose its going to be that way for very many years because I've yet to learn many things I need to.

Besides my graduate work, for which Im here, the past year has been about lessons learned, some embarrassing, some funny and some tough ones. Learning new things and un-learning things which have sort of found a way into me has taken the best part of the year. The most important lessons have been about professionalism, courtesy and living single. Learning to look left before you look right before crossing the road has been the most toughest one I must add ;)

Sharing an apartment and duties has been a new experience, especially since one has to carefully tread around bruised egos just like the way you need to handle a field of land mine. Nevertheless, its been another lesson on diplomacy and tact. Cooking, well I cant say enough about it. From a guy who was mortally scared of lighting a stove (dont ask me why) to a pretty good cook, its been a great adventure. Scorched vessels, burnt hands and cut fingers, its been fun. One thing I've realised is that no amount of cook books with zillion recipes are going to help. It takes a pinch of common sense, large amounts of general knowledge and concentration. Yeah, concentration, cooking is not learnt by committing ingredients to memory and training your motor memory to do the stuff.

My parents have already started talking about the time I'll be coming back, which is too far off to say definitively because lets face it, Im in grad school. So places to go, things to do and stuff to learn before I rest. (my version of a popular saying) :))

A new beginning

I have been very occupied in the past few days with some great movies and a difficult but close-to-the-heart book, plus I had to move recently. Moving's a bitch, I shall post about that ordeal later, I wonder how Anne doest it so often? Replies and posts have been very infrequent and I apologize for that.

I love my books and my movies greatly, and recently movies have overtaken pursuits in books. To make matters even better, Kaushik, my old school pal loves movies as much as me (awright, we can have that argument as to who likes movies more, later) and I decided to rope him in for a new blog. Also, we seem to have more or less the same taste movies. So without much fanfare I now present,

http://movieflavors.blogspot.com/

Through this we hope to introduce off-beat movies, indie movies, foreign films (Italian, Spanish, French, etc) and movies we greatly loved and want others to see and enjoy. Happy reading and happier viewing.

P.S: if you would like to be a part of the blog and contribute to it, please let me know.

The self made man

The self taught man seldom knows anything accurately, and he does not know a tenth as much as he could have known if he had worked under teachers, and besides, he brags, and this is the means of fooling other thoughtless people into going and doing as he himself has done.

Mark Twain

Personal observation - "How very true!" *sigh*

Tagged Again

I was thinking about writing something that happened to me at 4:30am on thursday morning, something which I thought was real funny, when I saw that Anne had tagged me on one the many meme's thats doing rounds. So here goes....

Seven Things I Can Do

1) Turn a book upside down and read at a freakish speed
2) Remember most of the actors and some directors of all the movies Ive seen so far in my life
3) Quote "The Godfather" by Mario Puzo
4) Multitask - for eg: cook, talk on the phone, wash dishes and listen to music
5) Watch NBA all day long
6) Read a book forever while im on the shit-pot
7) Listen

Seven Things I Plan to Do Before I Die

1) Learn to play atleast one musical instrument
2) Write an original screenplay for a movie
3) Bungeejump and skydiving
4) Dunk a basketball even if it means I have to use a trampoline
5) Start an orphanage
6) Start a company
7) Fall in love and get married

Seven Things I Can't Do

1) Keep my room clean (although rest of the house would be clean)
2) Shave properly
3) Remember where I left my last piece of gum
4) Forget my mothers cooking (been a year from home and still cant seem to grow out of it)
5) Be awake for the entire duration of any seminar
6) Remember the birthdays of all my friends
7) Time management

Seven Things That I Find Really Attractive About the Opposite Sex

1) Captivating eyes
2) Talk intelligently
3) Sense of humor
4) Independent
5) Resonable
6) Humility
7) Should be the physical embodiment of the Barbie Girl (awright gals, just kidding :P )

Seven Things I Say the Most

1) Fcuk
2) Holy shit
3) Goddamn
4) Wassup
5) Awesome
6) Awright
7) Hey

Seven Books I Love (in no particular order)

1) The Godfather by Mario Puzo
2) Fountainhead by Ayn Rand
3) Tintin by Herge
4) The Three Investigators by Robert Arthur
5) The Riftwar Saga by Raymond Feist
6) The Blue Ring by A.J.Quinnell
7) Phdcomics.com (this doesnt primarily classify as a book but its now available in printed edition)

Tag??!! Hell no, sorry about that Anne. You can tag me all you want and I'd be glad to do them anytime. But the last time I tagged somebody, I was very close to having my ass fried on a barbecue grill, too close for my comfort :D This time around I may not be so fortunate :) So, I leave it to anybody whos interested to pick up the baton and pass it around.

*Of all the things, Q 2 A 7 seems the least likeliest to happen before I die. It appears one needs to be outrageously talented and capable of very many things to do that. :P*

US Open '05 and Sania Mirza

I finally made it to one of the Grand Slam tournaments. Like the quest for the Holy Grail in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, my dad and me always wanted to go watch one of the Grand Slam tournaments to see Steffi Graf or Pete Sampras play. Notwithstanding that neither of them are playing and nor did I go with my dad, I still enjoyed every moment of my time this sunday at the US Open.

I even watched Sania play. For all the hype and the controversy surrounding her (yeah, the Indian media never spared anybody from any controversy) she has lots of promise as far as her game is concerned. Awright, before anybody starts asking me, I played a few many years of competitive tennis myself and that makes me qualified enough to make such statements :) Sania's got a pretty good forehand but I got the feeling that's all there is to her game and she tries to out-hit her opposite number. While this may be sufficient to take care of lesser players and a few top-ranked players in WTA tournaments, it will never be enough in Grand Slam tournaments, where top-ranked players raise their games and the level of competition is higher.

This was especially true in the match she lost to Sharapova. Sharapova is one of these new age women tennis players who hit the ball as if they want to get back at their ex-boyfriends. Not to mention Venus or Serena, who take up to hitting as they would do to an antique rug which was gathering dust in the attic since the time their forefathers came to the US on a ship from Africa. To top it all Sharapova was tucking into Sania's second serves like the way Sania would attack a bowl of Hyderbadi biriyani when she gets back to her home town. I guess with couple of years of experience on the circuit, with better knowledge of how to construct points and better second serves Sania might enter the top 20 and start making an impact in grand slam tournaments. Atleast her report card doesnt sound like her fellow Hyderbadi cricket star, who would say in a post-match press conference, something like we didnt bat well, we didnt bowl well or field well........duh, is there anything more to cricket. So thankfully, Sania has a great framework to work on and to top it all she seems to be enjoying every moment of the time she spends on the court.

As far as the Open tournament, it was great and it was everything I had expected it to be. Carnival atmosphere, great stadium, great crowd and great matches. Loved the great five-setter between Hewitt and Dent and enjoyed the fabulous hitting of the Williams sisters. Hold on did I mention the beautiful ladies who came on that day. I dont think I did. So heres to all the beautiful ladies who chose to grace the US Open that fateful day I also happened to be there. Thanks ladies.

So, thats one down and three more to go. Wimbledon, French and Australian Open still remaining to see :P

Suicide

Taking his swiss army knife he carves a thin line across his left wrist. Every piece of the swiss knife has a purpose. He smirks at the irony, one last time.

He sat on the edge of his bed. Feet on the soft carpet, hair tousled and wet after a long bath. The once pure-white bathrobe was loosly knotted around his waist. Everyday, he arose from an intermitten sleep laced with nostalgia. He dealt with the daily drudgery of office, social life, family and friends for many years methodically and with a stoicism nurtured through the years. Diffendence, others said. If only they knew.

Except for the tiny tingling on his skin, he doesnt feel a thing at first. Slowly, the line comes into appearance, a red line that opens up to ooze more red. Drops of blood slowly drip onto the carpet, the sound of dripping reverbrating in his ears. Involuntarily his body twitches at the sensation of blood flowing through the cut, by now gushing out with more force. He looks down at the reddish puddle forming on the brown carpet between his legs.

Today would be different he had assured himself when he woke up. He took a final glance of the Brooklyn river through his penthouse windows. When he moved into the penthouse, this view enslaved him. It spoke of a promise, a destiny to be fulfilled but now it signified nothing but the vast openess. It would be different he said to himself again.

His eyes roll up into their sockets, losing consciousness partly due to the vivid, vibrant pulsating color of the blood. No matter how many times you donate blood, no matter how many times you see gruesome killings on the screen, the veins pumping out such large quantities of blood can psyche you out. He holds onto the final seconds of his existence on this material plane. Not because he doesnt want to leave this world, instead trying to discern if he would rue the decision he just took.

He cries out in agony one last time, as it becomes lucid to him that his family and friends are going to judge him by his death. His cowardly death, his sprint to the finish line. Death was his liberation, his freedom from hypocrisy, affectations, mediocrity, incompetence, narcissm, second-handers, self-pity and irresponsibility.

Today was different!

Going Under

To my friends and fellow bloggers who regularly visit my blog..............

sorry guys, since the last post I have been partly busy and partly suffering from lack of enthusiasm about blogging and visiting other blogs. So, Im taking a sabbatical for the moment and will be back soon (i hope!!) Hopefully, Ill be back soon with many interesting things to share with all of you. Until then, ciao.

OH MY GOD!!

I try to refrain from forming words with capital letters especially when Im writing a mail to someone or while Im chatting. According to etiquettes of chatting and emailing this is supposed to refer to shouting and I strongly believe in that. But I had my insides screaming in despair and anger when I read through a recent post. When I wrote, A full circle, I knew that I was only scratching the surface of the phenomenon of sexual molestation. Besides, I knew that I would never have to go through such a thing and would never really fathom the psychological effects such an incident could do.

Why am I saying all this, wooaaooww gave me this to read, a real life experience of a twenty something girl travelling alone by train, and it was rude slap on the face differentiating between reality and fictional piece of writing.

Theres not much I can do except write about it. To say I felt sorry for the girl would be the biggest understatement this side of the Atlantic next to "Bush sucks". First she has to go through the worst physical torture not to mention being very scared as to what can happen to her next. As if this shit ain't enough for her, she then has to go through some emotional blackmailing. Truth is I felt really sorry for her when the perpertrator put her through some crass emotional blackmailing and make her feel guilty for doing what is right. Im glad she stuck to her guns and filed a criminal complaint against that guy. Reading that post made me notice a few things which I would have overlooked as indulgent, mischievous or harmless.

Heres something that I noticed last weekend after reading that post. I was waiting for my flight to Chicago along with many others crowding on both sides of the exit ramp coming off the gate. There was this beautiful girl on the other side wearing a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt showing off a little of her assets. Before we go any further, let me clarify that she wasnt dressed provocatively in any way. So, when the flight landed at the gate and the passengers started exiting, I couldnt believe my eyes that 9 out of every 10 males exiting the plane had two glances at her. One at her beautiful visage and the next, a fleeting (almost reflexive and involuntary) glance at her dress' plunging neckline. I was aghast, at the number and the different kinds of male entities that indulged in this. Married, unmarried, young, old, it didnt matter. To say that I didnt indulge in it myself would be perjury. But, after noticing this I knew that I would never be able to look the girl in her eye and say two kind words to her. There are girls who get turned on by being the focus of attention of every male stranger but this was different. Brazenly ogling has been so common, I guess by now its become a birth right for the male species these days. "Feminism is a misconception that women are people!!!" This was a bumper sticker in some car near my house; this is what its come to now.

To Lone Warrior, read the above post then you'll understand what I was trying to convey in the previous post!! No frivolous inspirations from Hindi or Tamil cinema :)

A full circle

She had very little interaction with the male species and was mostly alien to the ways of them. Her father died when she was very young. Her mother and grandmother were the people she looked upto in her life, her role models. And he knew little about females. Together they were keen to chart a new course in their lives. They met each other when they were at crossroads in their life, when they needed a new person in each others life, a new perspective, a non-judgemental entity to bounce their opinions off. Together they walked on anxiously towards a new future, expecting to take whatever life threw at them with considerable ease because now they would have each other to urge them on. How wrong they would be.

The took the same local transport to home and work every day. Even in the suffocating throng of human bodies packed tight one against the other, they kept their distance from each other. Each not invading into the others comfort zone, respecting each others privacy. The self protecting bubble burst one day. She was molested on the ride back home one day, the day he choose to stay away from work because of illness. Like so many other women before her, just like her mother put up with all the taunts everyday, she suffered in silent agony.

She knew things would never be the same with any man. No amount of previous interaction would have prepared her for this. His personal haven came tumbling down upon him like a building of cards. He knew that he could never offer her any solace with his words or his physical presence. If only he could make her understand that not all men arent that bad. But it was too late, too little and too insignificant.

The man...but the mission?

As far back as I could will my ever failing and diminishing memory "The man under the tree" was always there. I could never distinctly differentiate the moment in my life when he wasnt there and when he mysteriously appeared. But once he made his appearance he was omnipresent. When I first noticed him, as a child sitting behind my dad on the two wheeler, I hugged my dad fiercely, petrified by his appearance. His hair uncharacteristically brown in color, mottled and frayed due to years of negligence. His face hidden under months of shaggy and unkempt beard. His face was thin and drawn out, as if the weight of the beard was too heavy for his features. His appearance was the stuff parents used to scare their children into eating their spinach or stop them from misbehaving.

He was there when I was old enough to start my brave walks to the nearby medical shops and grocery stores. Atleast 20ft before his tree abode I used to cross to the other side of the road and continue my journey. He was still there when I learnt to ride my bicycle on the "busy" roads. I rode my bicycle swiftly past him lest he decided to come out of his reverie and stick his hand out to grab me, which he wasnt going to do anyway. He was there when I ambled my two wheeler past him, by now growing comfortable to his presence on the road. Truth is, I had enough faith in the horse power of my two wheeler to know that I can accelerate quickly enough if he decides to reach out to me.

He was mostly sitting under the tree whenver I saw him. Now, when I think back to those days he reminds me of one of those tree deities which are worshipped reverently but never taken care of in rain or shine. What an irony!! What did the all powerful being, God decided to do with him? Was this the path that God had destined for him? He never begged for money that much I noticed but how did he sustain himself? What did he do when it rained and what did he do when the heat of the summer months beat down upon him?

So, who was he? Where did he come from? The stork didnt drop him from the sky. Had he a life, a family who cared for him and a family he cared for? I wanted to find out but I never did. Will he be there when I go back home? Will I be able to approach him now and find out what landed him in the present state?

On a wholly different level, spare a moment for the homeless children. I try to tell this to all whom I think would listen and to others who think Im sensible at times. When you think about having a family, think about adopting. Why bring more into this harsh world when there are already so many for whom the concept of family is as alien as Kentucky Fried Chicken?


P.S: Thanks M. for the timely reminder :) :P

Book tagging

This seems to be the most happening thing at present in most of the blogs Im visiting. So I was surprised and mildly excited when Eroteme asked of me to carry the baton. This is kind of like a chain mail asking you to forward (tag) it to five others. But definitely more interesting than chain mails. So here goes...

Total books I own:
Not many but if you count books related to academia, tinkle, amar chitra katha it might very well go beyond 100. Ive just started building my collection :(

Last book(s) I bought: On June 8th 2005
Prey by Michael Crichton (This story is about nanotechnology and robots ;) ).
The testament by David Morrell.
A Beautiful Mind: The life of Mathematical Genius and Nobel Laureate John Nash by Sylvia Nasar.
Catch 22 by Joeseph Heller.

Last book I read:
Homeland by R A Salvatore.

Current reading:
Exile by R A Salvatore.
Etching in Microsystem Technology by Michael Kohler.
Some technical journal papers.

Books that have had an impact on me:
Fountainhead by Ayn Rand.
To kill a Mocking Bird by Harper Lee.
Animal Farm by George Orwell.

And to carry on the baton:
Well, it appears that some unknown people have a laid down a rule that I could pass this on to only 5 other. So, I request Woaaooww, SP, Vitalstatistix, M., Misha to carry on the good work :)

P.S: for those new to blog-tagging (yeah, Im already an expert because I have already finished one) you have to pass this on to 5 others withing 15mins of reading this or thou shalt lose access to your blog :)) Believe me I never thought this would happen but it happened to me and I had to appease the creators and the Blog deity by sacrificing one of my blogs :P

Monaaay

Money, with pscyhedelic strains on the guitar, goes the Pink Floyd song.

"Money, it’s a crime.
Share it fairly but don’t take a slice of my pie.
Money, so they say
Is the root of all evil today.
But if you ask for a raise it’s no surprise that they’re
Giving none away"

ABBA went "Money,money,money" and Dire straits sang "Money for nothing"

Money for nothing? Nobody told me about that. Dont we work hard to make money? How much money do we need? In one of my earlier posts in this blog, I asked this question of myself "How much money do I want, is one million dollars enough, or what will two cars and a beautiful bungalow back home do to my dreams, will it satisfy my urge to earn and spend?" How do I draw the line between necessity and greed? From celluloid heroes to pint size philosophers,
they all say the same thing, panam inniku varum nalaikku pogum, kaasu selavu panrathuku thanae (today you earn money to spend it tomorrow? isnt the money that we earn, for spending?)

A necessary digression at this point.

One of the most defining moments Ive come across in movies in the recent times was the climax in Schindlers List. As the story goes, Oskar Schindler, who initially sees Jews as cheap labor goes through a full circle of convictions, guilt and humanity. Itzhak Stern, his faithful Jewish accoutant, who helps him succeed in his business, feeds on his guilt and initiates him to rescue people from camps by recruiting them in his factory. To many Jews, Schindlers factory meant the difference between life and death. Nobody died if they worked for Schindler. That meant more than anything else to them. When the people were ready to be shipped off to Auschwitz, Schindler, a businessman who sees war as an opportunity to finally succeed in life and make money, pays off almost his entire fortune to bribe officials to move the Jews to his hometown. This way he saved 1200 Jews, and thus the name of the movie, Schindlers List.

He saved many more indirectly. His factory supplied armaments and artillery shells to the Nazis; Schindler made sure that no shell from his factory would ever fire. To make this happen Schindler spent huge amounts of money, conniving officials to keep buying from him. After the end of war, Schindler knew only too well that as a member of the Nazi party he and his wife would be chased, prosecuted or maybe persecuted. The final scene when Schindler the ruthless,
money minded businessman breaks down to his confidant Stern, about how many more he could have saved, it hits you hard. To depict the gravity of the situation and what money meant to Schindler in the end, Im going to quote directly from the movie.

SCHINDLER: (to himself) I could've got more... if I'd just...I don't know, if I'd just...I could've got more...

STERN: Oskar, there are twelve hundred people who are alive because of you. Look at them.

(Unable to look up)SCHINDLER: If I'd made more money... I threw away so much money, you have no idea. If I'd just...

STERN: There will be generations because of what you did.

SCHINDLER: I didn't do enough.

STERN: You did so much.

(Schindler starts to lose it, the tears coming. Stern, too. The look on Schindler's face as his eyes sweep across the faces of the workers is one of apology, begging them to forgive him for not doing more.)

SCHINDLER: This car. Goeth (The Nazi commander whom Schindler bribed to take the Jews to his hometown to work in his factory) would've bought this car. Why did I keep the car? Ten people, right there, ten more I could've got. This pin -- (He rips the swastika, from his lapel and holds it out to Stern pathetically.)

SCHINDLER:Two people. This is gold. Two more people. He would've given me two for it. At least one. He would've given me one. One more. One more person. A person, Stern. For this. One more. I could've gotten one more person I didn't.
(He completely breaks down, weeping convulsively, the guilt consuming him.)

SCHINDLER: They killed so many people...They killed so many people...

The meaningless gold lapel pin which he shamelessly paraded on his jacket came to nothing in the end. Will the money that we earn in our life mean anything to us, to this world. At times I used to ask myself, will the research that Im doing right now, is it going to help, will it make a difference. The money that I make would it make a difference? Im not going to humor myself that it would, but still I hope to put it to good use. For the hopeless romanticist that I am, the ideal world in which I dream, there, Dire Straits still sing "Money for nothing"

Someday on the different paths that Im going take, money should be the means to the end and not the end to the means.

Signing back in

Finally, things have been done with for this semester, phew now I can afford to take a two day breather before getting back to more important things.

Just to ease things back to normalcy, heres something to read, reflect, chew and ponder. Secrets!!! What is it about secrets, that you guard with all your life? Why does it prick curiosity to know others' secrets? Would you tell your secrets in a confession knowing that it would never be known to anybody else? Do your secrets make your blush in embarrassment or red with evil? Read through this, make your surmises and let me know what you think about it.

http://postsecret.blogspot.com/

Sigh...!!

Its that time of the semester again when professors haunt your dreams and the image of the lucifer is replaced with your professors face. I'll be busy burrowing under my books but not necessarily studying them. This time it might take me longer and bigger binges to recover from them. Signing off until then.