Leg injuries and my fitness journey at IIT

And so it happens again! 

Circa August, 2008. This was a time when one look at me would probably remind one of Humpty Dumpty from our nursery rhymes. 4 weeks or so into my first semester, I was walking to Engineering Drawing class, through a freshly soap-swept and still wet tiled hallway. I was running late, and as I hurriedly bumbled across it, I slipped and had the great fall. In such a way that my body weight (via my bottoms) landed on my right foot, twisting it. I was dizzy with pain for a while, until some kind men took me to the hospital, where it was diagnosed as a hairline fracture. And then followed 6 weeks with my foot in a plaster, and me walking on crutches.

Now I knew I wasn't the epitome of fitness, never having seriously pursued a sport (or any kind of exercise) but I couldn't believe that I was heavy and brittle enough to crush my own foot just by falling on it while walking! What a lame (hah) way to have injured myself!

Anyhow, it hit me that I needed to improve my fitness, and with all the free facilities, there was never a better time to start off a fitness regime. During the subsequent summer, I started jogging every morning to get fitter. Such spurts of enthusiasm, with gaps of a few weeks (months) in between, continued, and all the little running and climbing staircases did manage to deflate me a little, to the point when people around me managed to notice significant losses in my volume by the end of my third year. But I was not in the fitness state that I'd desired, and there was more to be done!

Never, however, had I been so freely loaded with time on hand as this last year, and I did utilize it, by training relatively regularly and completing three 6 km runs, with improved timings each time. It was greatly satisfying! Apart from that, I had been watching tennis for around 3 years, and had fallen in love with the sport to the point of obsession, and had realized that just watching the sport is not satisfying enough, and that it was time to begin learning to play. Thus began my first serious attempt in life to pick up a sport, and I'd decided to not give up on it! 

My incredible patience coupled with the addictive nature of tennis sufficiently countered my incredibly slow learning in sports, and I gradually learnt hitting forehands, and less consistently, backhands, and simple, slow services, so that I could play recreational tennis to my heart's content! I felt happy and proud to be able to play a sport, something I'd always felt lacking about myself. The alternate/daily visit to the tennis courts was something I looked forward to the most!

April 22, 2013. A not-so-fine day. New balls were procured, and we were off playing. I'd been playing after the gap of a few days, and given my lack of maturity in the game yet, it had taken me some time to settle into the shot making groove. That feeling of satisfaction had begun building up. Just then, came a flying cross-court forehand from the other end. It wasn't the toughest to chase, and I reached for it, and just as I made contact with the ball, my right foot, that should have ideally slid, stayed put, and then twisted through almost right angle. 

That same dizzy-with-pain feeling came back to me, as I slumped to the ground, figuring out in the pain what just happened. A few minutes later, took my shoes off, revealing a (table) tennis ball sized swelling in my right foot, and signifying perhaps a pre-matured long break in what was turning out to be a fabulous tennis career. (Don't dare laugh).

Goddamit! Just when the new balls had come, and just when I'd returned after a little break, and most importantly, just when the summer holidays are about to begin! I had made umpteen plans for this summer, and a majority of them relied on the goddamn foot (well, it was mainly playing tennis and roaming around). Now how long is this going to take to recover!? I sat in the hospital (surrounded by people who were unable to convincingly diagnose it) wondering what to do, at the same time trying to mentally accelerate the healing process so that the implementation of my summer plans is not hindered. 

Now the whole point of writing this, is that it struck me, how ironic this was! 4 weeks into my 1st semester here, I broke my leg, and 4 weeks before exiting, I break it again! And yet, what a huge difference - it was this difference that probably cheered me up a little. You know how warriors take pride in getting injured during battle. De-dramatize that to my level. It was that little feeling of satisfaction, that at least this time, I injured myself not as a result of sheer unfitness, but due to a mishap that happened while playing the sport I loved! I mean, that happens even to the best of those who play! Sorry, second-best, Nadal is always second-best (haha). As I realized that I'll be off all intensive movements for the next few weeks, I was sweetly reminded of the last few months and years that I'd given to improving my fitness and stamina.

So begins a period of waiting again, until I'm ready to go out to the courts or tracks and kick some ass. And hopefully, in much more rigorous and regular fashion than now!

Vishwa

Sham (Aisha) and the Amateur Musician

The joy of an amateur musician when he is able to figure out how to play that dream song is unquantifiable! The dream song changes with time. It changes as his genre-orientation changes, often in the process of trying to figure out the current one, or often when that same enthusiasm for that song doesn’t remain after a long time has passed trying to learn it.

But when the co-incidence happens, it is most self-satisfying. Something a professional probably wouldn't understand.

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Over the years, I’ve found myself flitting from one song/genre to another, from metal to hard rock to soft to the blues. I often picked up songs along the way, but rarely did they reach completion, and often were not by self-effort.

I found that elusive bliss when I managed to figure out Sham, from the movie Aisha.

Several songs we listen to are either electronic, or band songs. An elaborate ensemble of instruments and/or display of technical prowess, enough to blow you off your feet and leave you asking for more. High moments include brilliantly timed, technically supreme solos, groovy beats, or even intermittent phrases coming off elite instruments. This is where they get out of reach of the inspired amateur.

After all this, I wanted to find that one song, which was complete in its simplicity, the bonfire song, which was raw in feel, yet with a fine touch, simple to play, and addictive to listen to.

And then Amit Trivedi, Nikhil D’souza and Nueman Pinto come up with this genius of a song.

Sham bhi koi, Jaise hai Nadi, Leher Leher Jaise Beh Rahi hai..

It flows, just like a river! Small, simple yet goosebump-causing licks blending in with a set of 5 chords.

The first solo comes in; medium paced, not in the same scale, and yet so brilliantly blended, one that one would love to hum while singing the song.

The song is replete with beautiful vocal harmonies and choruses in ethereal voices..  Ghumsum, Ghumsum, Hai yeh Fizaayein..

Most leisurely, yet smooth, unbroken falsettos.. Suhaani, Suhaani, hai yeh Kahaani, jo Khamoshi Sunati hai... 

And then comes the second interlude: the blues riff, which totally takes the cake. Most energizing, revitalizing. Something very fresh and rare in Bolly music.

A perfect mood lightener, Sham! The best part about this song is that it is accessible for singing even to the common bathroom singer. The leisurely nature of the vocals is, quite deceptively, what brings a lot of charm to the song.

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Another source of equally unquantifiable joy for an amateur musician is when he finds a co-musician, or a bunch of them, who share(s) the same passion for that dream song, and that kind of music. Someone who is able to appreciate his love for that song, for reasons which a non-musician would barely notice! Someone he beams with joy to when he notices some nuance about the song.

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Fortunately, Sham is not a song whose lovers are numbered. It was one fine day when Nishant and I, ardent fans of Amit Trivedi's music, decided to cover this song, and a few months and several jams later, record it. Simple (in terms of requirements) that the song is, all it demands is 2 guitars, a good voice (or pair of them, if you count the harmonies), and a nice ambience, the last of which was found on the VMCC terrace, in the biting cold of the morning.

Sham (Aisha) Cover

A while later, noticing charge left in the camera battery, we recorded ‘Blue Sky’, by Allman Brothers.

Blue Sky (Allman Brothers) Cover

Both very raw covers, but that was the fun. Playing the music we love, laced with that amateurism which is the very source of our excitement and joy.

Vishwa 

PS: Thanks Pritish, for teaching me that riff. Antariksh too, for the uploads.

Mornings, January

I love mornings. Especially cold, winter ones. Holiday or not, I feel a precious day’s been wasted if I haven’t woken up early enough.

I love staring out the window, at a tree, listening to the chirping of birds as I wake up. I find it very reassuring in some way. It briefly fills me with calm, a bit of happiness even. For a while, albeit short, it frees my mind off the vicious grip of things that occupy it during the day and makes me think of the much bigger, better picture, one not about me and myself.

I love the anticipation of hot tea and a good breakfast that arises as I brush my teeth. The warmth my jacket gives to my shivering torso and chattering teeth after a splash of biting cold basin water. The arrival of the daily newspaper.

I love smiling away to myself at the breakfast table, as I imagine her saying ‘Hi’ to me on entering class, or myself in a dialogue with her during the day, possibly in between two lectures (or on gmail in the evening, perhaps?), or as I imagine someone compliment me on some 'heroic' task I did the previous evening, and blaming that smile on some sitcom joke I heard last night, to those around me who ask the reason for it.

I love walking to class in the morning. There’s just the right amount of sunlight. Pleasantly warm. Not unbearable, like afternoons. Not with the pensive, sad vibe like the setting sun of the evening.

I love listening to music as I walk to class. Energetic songs, often on repeat, especially those with harmonies. I find it very satisfying when I’m able to discern them and sing. My hair stand on end as I listen to a soul ripping solo or harmonized vocals. It warms me up a bit in the cold.

Afternoons are lazy. Meant to take a nap in. Or attend enforced labs, if you’re in college.

Evenings lack the charm of anticipation. There are countless problems in life. Deadline, the next day. One evening to solve them all.

Mornings are special.

Vishwa.

Backfiring Expectations

This post is about a recent personal experience. Not so much a general post.

Prologue

This is not like the traditional prologue. But using the term all the same, just for flavour. 

December 2008, I’d gone with my mom, granny and my granny’s brother-in-law’s family (including his wife, 2 daughters i.e, my cousin maasis, and the elder maasi’s daughter, i.e. my cousin), totally 8 of us, on a pilgrimage to Palitana, a holy place of the Jains.

Both my maasis are settled in the USA, and my cousin was 6-7 years old then, when they’d come down here.

I was quite a few magnitudes of plumpness (if that’s a unit at all) plumper back then. And I had a clear face.

Over four days, I’d bonded really well with my cousin. It took a while to get her (and myself) to talk, because honestly, I find it really difficult to come up with ‘baby talk’. Not exactly baby talk, but something to engage a second grade kid. She was shy at first, always hiding behind her mom, as kids usually do, but she was surprisingly mature for her age, and as time went by, she got more and more comfortable, and my plump face probably supported the bonding.

We had an awesome time on the last day and in the train, discussing India, and the fields and jhopdas we saw from the train window, and cows, sheep and pigs (which unlike the pink American ones she was used to seeing, were a rude shade of black-grey-brown), and she was indeed very sad to see me get off at an earlier station.

I found it amazing how well she grasped things, and how excited she was to learn about the new things she saw here (having spent most of her years in the USA). Before she went back to the USA, we met once again at a get-together, and she was exclusively overjoyed when she saw me and spent most of the time with me. The best part being I enjoyed it too, and coming up with stuff to talk was hardly an issue.

3 years later.

December 2011, my younger maasi scheduled to wed in India. This would mean my cousin coming down to India! I was overjoyed, and waiting to see her, for though I’d been intermittently in touch with my elder maasi, I hadn’t directly spoken to her since.

As stated in an earlier post, I’d pulled down a lot, and looked a bit different, with pimples, a moustache and an excuse of a beard on my face.

I was supposed to go for the Sangeet Sandhya (Musical Evening). A large number of family members were participating in dance sequences, but I bailed out, citing random projects and travel issues as excuses. In fact, my cousin had asked about me as well! I was happy to hear that. Of course, as an aftermath, I regret not participating, because the dance learning process is indeed a lot of fun, coupled with loads of free, incredibly tasty junk food everyday for the participants.

Back to the main thing, I spotted my cousin as soon as I reached. Then stealthily I walked up behind her, and tapped her on the head with my index finger, expecting her to turn around and jump with joy.  

Turn around she did, and stood there gazing at me, not saying a word, perplexed.

I’d be wrong to say I’d not feared that would happen. She’d obviously not recognised me.

I said, “Hey, remember me?”

“No”

Goddam it. How bloody embarrassing. Luckily no one was nearby.

“Remember you’d gone to Palitana?”

“Yeah.”

“Remember Vishwa?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s me!”

A few seconds later, she said with a confused look on her face,

“You look different..” Then she walked off to her mom.

Curse my change in physique (for lack of a better word) and curse the damned pimples on my face.

Epilogue

Later that evening, when she was convinced that it was indeed me, we did catch up a bit. But amidst loads of other relatives and kids. That elated feeling of a long-lost cousins’ reunion that I'd expected had passed.

I always maintained that I’d changed for the better, healthier.

This was the first time I actually felt crap about having changed.

Vishwa.

Colors of Mumbai I

A general post. For someone who feels following a set protocol in public is the right thing to do. But can't do anything about it when it isn't followed by others.

This is something I've observed and been part of several times. Something a long-time Mumbaikar and BEST bus user would probably relate to. Not being too much of an extensive traveler, I haven't seen too much of other cities. Though I wonder if such situations ever arise in smaller places.

I was awaiting a bus to Powai at the Andheri (E) bus depot, from where 2 different buses have their starting point. There was a common line though. Which was sort of, the root of the problem.

The 'starting point', was marked by a ~7-8 m long railing on the footpath surrounded by shoe-shops. Given the time we'd been waiting since, and being the source of 2 buses, the line obviously extended till way outside the railing, over ~30 meters or so, and off the footpath (thanks to 'em shoe shops). Roughly 20 m of that line was behind me, maybe more.

After half-an-hour of waiting, one of them finally turned up. As expected, those in the 'railing section' waiting strictly for the other bus (lets call it B) backed off a step or two. This created a little lag as those awaiting our bus A tried to move past, struggling a bit in the restricted space between the railing and the B junta.

This lag was enough. Angrily I watched as a couple of A-liners ahead of me, outside the railing, 'free' to move, conveniently broke the line and began making their way shamelessly to the bus entrance.

An old couple, still stuck behind the railing, were dismayed. "What the hell is the point of forming a line?" Couldn't help feeling bad for them.

I thought I should do the right thing, and follow the line through the railing, as it should be.

Then I looked at the 20 m of similar, unscrupulous people behind me, who had conveniently not heard the couple, gearing up to rush in towards the bus. I realized I'd probably not even get a place to stand, in that case.

I thought of shouting out to them, to notice the line, the old couple, and the ideal blah. But I couldn't. They'd'nt have listened anyway.

So I joined the 2 idiots in front of me who'd broken the line, jabbed and pushed hard at the guys behind me, using the full force of my elbows, in my effort to get into the bus. I noticed the old couple, successfully out of the trapper of a railing by now, struggling to get in, alongside me and infinite other people. I was pushed in, looking behind to see if they made it next (or ever).

Loads of place to sit inside, that I probably didn't deserve, I thought. May be I'll get up if the old couple don't find a place to sit. Was I wrong in breaking the line? I'd to look out for myself too, I guess. So its justified now.

I was thankful that they did find a place. Didn't bother to notice though, what happened of the other deserving commuters. What am I, Mother Teresa?

So such is life in Mumbai. Does it take a bomb blast for people to show some goodness?

Vishwa.

PS: Lukkhaness. Made a Top view of it in Paint.

The Grand Gujju Wedding I: Family Reunions

This post is not a wedding-bashing. A subsequent one might just be, though. This is actually about the beauty of correctly timed weddings.

I wonder how the situation is for you, but I reached an all-time low on in-family socializing during my +2. Thanks to the stiff competition, wasting even one minute of time was like losing 1 rank in the JEE, and getting closer to ruining your life, and this pretty much prevented me from attending any family gathering. In fact, I had'nt even seen 2 of my new born cousins during this time (shamefully), until last year.

The huge, awesome winter holiday IIT gives us is surely a blessing. It is enough time to catch up with all those you've missed and who've missed you (of course, that's if you haven't gone on an out-station internship to keep up with the competitive times, or you aren't a final year-ite sitting for placements/apping, or an MI CG, or an inter-IIT player (basically, if you are completely lukkha)). Twas one for me definitely, last year, when 3 weddings happened over 2 sides of my family during December, and not during MI.

When meeting family members after a long time, it does feel very awkward. There's that little guilt inside, that tinge of regret for not having met or spoken to them for so long. More so when you know they'd been around when you were young, playing with you and allowing you to win always, gifting you toffees et al, cheering you up and calming the tantrums. Meeting my maasis (mom's younger cousins) felt just that way. They would come for me from all across Mumbai, when I was little. They'd all grown up too, and now have kids, whom I'd barely met or spoken to, let alone played with, since the last few 'career building' years.

So two of the weddings, which happened to be on my maternal grandmother' s side, were the means for me to get in touch with my long lost brothers and sisters (9 in total). I had a ball! 2 toddlers, and the rest progressively increasing in age till me. Being the eldest of them all, I do get (command? :P ) a lot of respect, but more so, those few days of the several, several pre-wedding and wedding functions helped us all bond really well. It was heavily nostalgic for me, in the sense that I'd bonded a lot as a kid with my maasis. Time spent with cousins is precious! Especially the much younger ones. It feels good that they look up to you for a lot of things.

The first thing you hear about yourself on meeting the older generation after a long interim, is the unbelieving way in which they say 'he has grown up quite a lot, hasn't he!' While that would seem obvious at first, I'd realize later how on one hand I was always a little kid to them, and how ~1o odd years hardly seems like a long time-span at that age. So while you might've grown, you're still the apple of your grandmom's eye.

Though it may not seem obvious at first, your grandparents introducing you to several new aged people, going out of their way to connect you to their distant acquaintances, making your educational background etc. known is all for a reason. As 20 somethings, we are next in line! (To get married, I meant.) All eyes are on us. Its almost like a way of mating, for families. The way we dress, the way our parents dress, the jewellery (which may even be borrowed, but as long as that is not known, no one cares) and the expensive suits are all (supposed to be) indicative of how well settled we're expected to be, and whether we'll be able to take sufficient care of the needs and wants of their pretty daughters! Of course, we have our own ideas about that.

Meanwhile, I'd pulled down a lot, over 3 years of studying (and subsequently forgetting) engineering, and couldn't help but swell with pride as I heard people compliment my new-found fitness (as I'd like to think so). That, however, wasn't stopping me from gorging on the awesome food in inhuman quantities.

Wedding coming up again, correctly timed! Which is kind of what inspired this post. This time, my maternal grandfather's side, and hence a different set of cousins! And different unknown people to put up a good show in front of.

I hope to write more on a Gujju wedding in a subsequent post. Its one of the most extravagant affairs I've come across so far, extravagance born out of warmth, enthusiasm and the need for perfection! Hence the numbered title.

Vishwa.

Writer's Block

Its been quite a while since I last wrote something non-academic. I've found myself struggling to find a topic to write on. Not that there's any shortage here. In a country like ours, just the political scenario is enough to write a novel upon, let alone a blog. Yet, I find myself wanting in opinion. Something I attribute to my complete disinterest in current affairs.

Why go even so far as that. There's enough going on in IIT as it is, enough to make it to the columns of an all India newspaper, on an almost daily basis. And there's always been music, and tennis, and other stuff I love, to write on. Yet for someone suffering from the Writer's Block, its as they say, hidden in plain sight.

My recent enforced department obsession is not really helping either. I have just gotten out of the most hectic, life-sapping semester ever, and cribbing about the workload or my duties as CR form the most of my thoughts or conversations, as reasonably good friends of mine would agree.

I later wonder what people around me must think of that. Reminds me of an episode in F.R.I.E.N.D.S where Ross rambles on (and passionately so) with some dinosaur-talk at the coffee place; a very close friend of mine sent me this link to cheer me up when I was low, though I wonder if the message was implicitly hidden (in the first minute of this video) Friends Moments. (Of course, I'm always hopeful there'll be some Rachel among those listening to me, but aah..)

So here I am, attempting to shed off the block. I'm pretty sure there'll be a lot to notice and write about, If I stop brooding so much. I intend to post anecdotes, or observations, or whatever, which will hopefully get better with time.

The name of this blog, of course, is somewhat chemical-engineering-fundae-inspired (pretty much highlights my current unidirectional thinking phase). Not in the sense that its something strictly scientific, but since that is where I first came across the notion of transient and steady states. My views may vary over time, definitely, as I imbibe others' opinions or learn newer things. They may border over hypocrisy, even, depending on the situation. But mostly, its for the welcoming feel of being able to think, notice, discuss and appreciate (or criticize) something else for a change.

Vishwa.