It's all about you!

It was a total disaster.  A tragedy.  Think of the worst thing that could ever happen to you… yes, that, yes, that… her eye makeup was smudged.  What a horrible day.  She was going to die.

And while she was fussing and buzzing and swearing and panicking and looking and re-looking at her mirror, she failed to notice the woman facing her on the tube, who was hiding her tears.  Perhaps the lady had a dying son, a dead husband, a sick relative, but that’s not important enough.  Nor is the story of the man who sat next to her wearing rugged clothes and smelled so terrible that she had to change seat.

Come on drama queen, it’s not about you.  It never was, it will never be. 

I know these words hurt but the world does not turn around you.  Your worries may not be important.

(Thought for Good Friday 2013)

The best of the Brits

It was a build-up of events.  We had been reading about it for months and weeks on the Metro newspapers.  Street parties were being organised.  Decoration of houses, streets and shops were at their best. And now that this long weekend has sadly come to an end, I might as well close the chapter by posting a blog on her Majesty’s Jubilee.

We left our home at about 10.30am and had planned to go to the end of the flottilla’s procession i.e. Tower Bridge.  I was almost completely sure the river banks would be too crowded by the time we arrive there since we had listened to BBC news where people who had camped outside during Saturday night were interviewed.  On the way to Bank, while on the Central Line, we changed our minds and stopped at St. Paul’s.  We were very early and yet there were too many people for a Sunday morning.  Almost immediately we entered the mood on hearing the Cathedral’s bells ringing busily.

We managed to find this really good spot, sheltered from the rain.  Because, needless to say, there was no collaboration from the London weather!  And while waiting for 3.45pm, I almost felt I knew these people next to me in the crowd.  The two families who killed the time by eating (– can you imagine eating for so long?); the couple from Cambridge who came after us but managed to squeeze their way to the very front; the Indian girl who talked all the time to her patient boyfriend (?); Jack’s lady friend who was giving us BBC new from her iphone; and these oldies…

A word must be spared to the old ladies in the crowd.  They were so adorable with their Red, white and blue wigs, flags, glasses, hats, and all the gadgets with the Union Jack!  They came all the way from the North and were perhaps older than the Queen herself yet they made it and endured a long wait of more than 4hrs just to see Her!  They were also successful to have their photo on the newspaper while partying the other day!!!  Well done ladies!!!

And finally, the flotilla was simply very well organised and spectacular!  More than 1000 boats mustered the river Thames.  The sound of the bells ringing on the first boat, trumpets being blown, people cheering and singing, the waving of flags, beautiful…  And we were there!  We were among the crowd cheering the Queen!  The Queen’s boat came after all the rowing boats and the Commonwealth flags.  The Queen was in white; Kate in red; Camilla in beige; and me, I was in my black jacket because it was getting chilly! 

And that is why I say in such events you see the best of the Brits.  Very punctual, very calm, very organised… and very British!  I never thought I'd ever be waving the Union Jack.  But who cares!!!  And while we are at it, LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!

My Box

I really do not remember how it popped into my mind.  But now that I remembered, I got really excited about it. 

I remember I had this tin biscuit box – without the biscuits inside, of course.  It was squarish in shape and I think the overall colour was red.  And when I was in primary school, my world was in this box.  The box was my secret world.  And I used to put all the things close to heart which could fit in it.  Although this may sound strange to those who know me well, I used to organise and reorganise it.  I remember sitting on the floor, opening my box and looking at the items inside.

You may be wondering what was inside this box… I wish I still remember!  I am sure I had all these small figures, favourite origami, sometimes sweets, small statues of baby Jesus, a blue plastic ring (o I remember that!), toys you find inside cereal boxes and kinder sorpresa… anything small that fitted.  My papa had once found an exoskeleton of a snake but I am not sure I placed it inside – no I am almost definite I did not.  It was placed in a shoe box.  Where has it ended up, I wonder… I do not recall seeing it again.  Perhaps it was stealthily disposed of just before decomposing!

One of the figures I had was Crackle, a yellow hooded creature with curly hair.  I had been playing with the baby bees that had just hatched while my papa was processing the honey.  And one of these bees was not a baby at all and I realised so when it was too late.  It must have been a Thursday as my grandma was at our house.  And seeing me cry after being stung, of course, opened her handbag and took out my little Crackle which she had “found”.  And this ended up in the box… that is to say, only when it was not in one of my pockets, below the pillow, underneath my school desk etc.  It also ended up being my favourite lucky charm which NEVER failed!  Its service was used for all my exams... primary school exams, junior lyceum entry exams and even some of the secondary school exams, I am sure… I hope I still have him (it deserves a "him" rather than "it")!  This August, when I am home again, I will look for him.  I hope he still exists.  I have lately found by coincidence that Crackle is one of the three characters in the Rice Krispies.  It  does not matter though… no matter what his origin is, my Crackle  will never lose his charm!

It will take me such a long time to write all these memories related to my box.  But I will not take more of your time.  I just don’t know what had happened to it.  It is certain, I’m afraid, it has been emptied one day because I still have some of the items which were inside.  But the box?  My box?  Only God knows where it is now… whether it is being reused… or whether it has been recycled and was destined to be remoulded into a beautiful biscuit box, and is perhaps the world of another little child!!!  As I have said, only God knows! 

Mind the (generation) gap!

One of the best things of being a PhD student at Imperial is you get the opportunity to work with undergraduates.  And this is how I found myself on one Monday morning (at about 7.30am) leaving on a coach to Silwood Park with about 45 students or so, all ready for the famous surveying field trip.  The trip is a good experience for the students but this is not what I wish to focus on today.  I’d rather share my experience from a slightly different angle than from the academic point of view.

It all began from the moment I understood these 18-year olds I was working with were DIFFERENT.

I remember when I was a first year at uni.  It seems such a long time ago but it was only 10 years ago.  So we are talking about a generation gap of 10years… although this can merely be called a “generation” gap!!!

In my times, we all had computers… no laptops though.  I remember saving documents on floppy disks.  A cd was considered a big breakthrough… so ingenious!  Mobile phones were quite in vogue as well…  I only managed to buy my first Nokia 3310 at the end of year 1.  In the meantime, before you manage to lay hands on one, you carried the phone card (for phone machines) in your purse or wallet.  And with regards to music, as a first year student, I was so happy to be able to draught plans while having my Walkman playing… which was by then being replaced by the discman… that was also a clever discovery!  And with regards to photography, well at the end of the first year my dad bought our first digital camera - 2 Megapixels Nikon… wow!  That was extremely cool!!!

So back to the field, after setting up the total station, there, on the grass, out of the bags, all the gadgets you can imagine were coming out… macs, laptops, ipods, ipads… Mr Jobs must be smiling in heaven!  Everything is slim and smart!

Each student had to sketch the site.  In my times, everyone would have taken out paper and pencil and starting sketching.  Simple.  Hehe.  This bunch would laugh at you, dumb a$$!  So, check this out!  Only one student did the sketching.  Out came the iphone and (soundless) click, photo was taken.  It was then sent to all other smartphones.  And voila!  Everyone had the same sketch within a minute.  And to enlarge it, some even took out the ipad.  And how do you communicate on a site if the person with the total station is more than a kilometre from the one with the reflector?  Simple again.  Chat on the smart phone.  Or else, just make that phone call!  30cm forward.  10 cm to the left.  2cm to the right. Back by 10cm.  Perfect!

O how this world is changing so, so rapidly!  You just need to ensure that you MIND THE GAP!!!

Input in, output out

S***ty input implies s***ty output (apologies for the language).  Everything follows the same law of life.  And the same applies to food.

 

Think about it: we are born small in size, a couple of decimetres tall and say 3kg in weight.  All activities carried out in our first few years of life (apart from the ridiculously loud noise that comes out from a small mouth as that of a baby/child) is eat and drink… and all that goes with it – or after it! (apologies again).  And we grow.  And grow.  29kgs (– that was my weight when I started secondary school); 50kg (– that is roughly my weight now); 100kg (where does it stop?)  However, nothing comes from nothing.  So, as much disturbing as it may sound, what we eat is what we are.  Healthy eating would arguably lead to possessing a healthy body… but eating junk would thus mean…and I stop here.  Yes, pretty disturbing, I confirm!

 

This came to mind when I found myself staring at this plate failing to believe my eyes – failing to accept that a human being can manage to serve this!  BIG FAIL! It was THE definition of hotchpotch.  A shapeless, indefinable something (– what on earth was it?) laid out gracelessly on a plate - MY plate!  And although the taste was much better than the presentation, which left much to be desired, yet this awkward thought passed through my tired brain: Am I eating THIS?!  Am I letting this become me?

Crazy!

Price of your ticket - Value of your life

100 years from her construction.  100 years from her launch.  100 years from her sinking.  Highly justified is the 3-D conversion and re-release of the Titanic happening in 2012.  

And on the 27^th March there we were, of course, for the Titanic 3-D premiere.  Such an experience to walk on the red carpet… well we honestly did… not in the presence of reflectors and all, as was the case when Winslet rushed up the stairs to the RAH entrance, or when Cameron walked on that same carpet.

It has been such a long time when the 2-D film had been released.  I was so much younger.  (Even Kate was!) 

And as can be imagined, some days later, we had to watch the movie again – the 2-D one, of course.  And cry again, in bed, while watching everyone die.  You are there expecting them to die.  And yet you cry. 

On that ship were la crème de la crème - the best(est) of people.  And the irony is, that many of these went down with the sinking ship. 

And as for the third class ticket-holders who were (un)”lucky” enough to manage to get hold of that ticket, well, their probability of survival must have been extremely smaller… just because they could not have afforded the thousands of pounds (in today’s money) worth of first class ticket.  Just like that mother, who was given no choice but to put her two kids to bed while repeating an old fairy tale.  She just knew their destiny was ending up in the freezing water.  Her ticket and that of her kids just read “third class”.  The price of their ticket was low and the value which was given to their lives by eithers was just as low.

Capture it

Have you heard of that freak of nature in “Perfume – The Story of a Murderer” who wanted to capture smells (- good smells of course)?  Well, I tell you, Mr. Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, capturing smells is useless if your sense of smell deteriorates with time – surely it does not ameliorate, let us face it… But the novel is so right in picturing how man wants to stick to today’s experience by capturing it. 

This brings to mind the romantic novel (not that I do much reading, to be honest!): “The Notebook”.  The old lady loses all her memories.  She does not even recognise the love of her life, neither does she remember her children.  Thank God for the notebook, in which she had captured all the memories by the use of the pen.

So I say, life is so short but it is all about EXPERIENCES.  So live and enjoy all the experiences but do not forget to CAPTURE THEM, because you never know!  In short:

Photograph it, sketch it, blog it

And this brings me to the end of the first blog; the blog that has taken me ages to write; the blog my better half has lost hope I will ever jot down; the blog that explains its own significance – the meaning of a blog.