X-Perience - Teaching Chess through Checkmate

Woes of the weary wanderer

2011-03-22T14:49:00.000-07:00

I've started following the poems of the guy who calls himself "Enigma" on orkut. Here is a verse that I thought was pretty good.

Halt and harken, O weary stranger
For in observing thee, I have spent many an hour
Anguish on thy face, sweat on thy brow
Panic in thy stride, though in naught, harm or danger

The harvest is done, the lark be singing
Shines brightly the Sun, bringing warmth to thee and me
The morn is fresh, the eve be serene
The church bells from yonder, merrily they be ringing

Stop I shall, O maiden so fair
To speak to thee, and answer thy call
Wandered have I, for many a mile sans rest
And grateful I art, for thy concern and thy care

Restless have I been, for three days past
The nights art sleepless, the days be dark
A moonless eve, three nights from this night
A sweven intense, for three hours did it last

Somewhither I stood, in a field so vast
In the midst of a land, it be unknown to me
Move I could not, howbeit shackles I saw none
For how long I stood, I knew not, alas!

Verily, I did see, a battle unfold
Afore my eyne, twist two armies I knew
Formed ranks in line, tarrying the horn's cry
Warriors at arms, their flags gleaming in gold

Sword met sword, steel against steel
Helpless did I look upon, human slaying fellow human
The soil defiled in red, mute witness to the gore
As man and beast lay strewn, alack! the horror I did feel

What purpose did serve the war? To judge who was right?
Meaningless now, whenas no one was left
Save one dying man, to whom I did ask the same
A grave silence was the answer, ere I faded from his sight

Wake up I did, in a cold sweat, the vision in mine eyes
From the dream so real, a bane methinks 'twas
Haunted by the ghosts of past, the hours I tholed
Ringing in mine ears, the lament and cries

Behold the mirror, a ragged face and mane
Aged thirty years, in naught but less than a day
Whencesoever I be walking, forsooth, I know neither
Nor witherward I tread, a wanderer insane

- Enigma

Hello World? Why, oh why?

2010-10-28T11:39:00.001-07:00

I distinctly remember the day I started learning my first programming language. I was sitting in front of a computer with a blue screen (which I later realized was the code editor), as clueless as the guy next to me, waiting for the slightest hint of help from the instructor. Thankfully, we did have help with our first program. I know I failed to mention what programming language I was learning, so just to get that out of the way, it was 'C'. The instructor asked us to include the header for our first program, and I was one of the few people that managed to type "#include"; the rest were still in a state of shock at having to write an entire computer program by themselves (Note that this was a period when computers were considered aliens and writing a computer program was something that was reserved strictly for the nerdiest of nerds). After I had my opening and closing braces in place to fit my code within, the instructor proceeded to inform us that we would be writing a simple program to display a line on the computer screen. Naturally, I continued to add a printf statement to my code, which would display whatever I typed within it on the screen, and waited for further instructions. He asked us to display the sentence (or string as he called it) "hello, world!" on the screen. Though I was a little amused at why we were asked to type something completely irrelevant and alien to the current situation, I followed blindly and successfully got the message to display on my screen. Little did I know then that I was signing up for an endless barrage of "hello, world"s in the days to come. For the next few months, "hello, world" faded into the recesses of my mind with more complicated programs keeping me busy. I realized that I loved programming and within a few months, I had made up my mind that I would be pursuing computer science as a degree.

Years later, during my second year of undergraduate college, we were introduced to a new programming language called "C++" which improved on a few aspects of "C" language and made it easier and more flexible for programmers. I was looking forward to my first class. Our lecturer came in and told us that we would be starting with some practical experience in coding. She asked us to open our editors (which was still the boring blue background text-based editor) and type in the command "#include". She told us that the iostream library in C++ was similar to the stdio library in C, albeit with more intuitive functions. After that she asked us to add the line, cout<<"hello, world";. Though it brought back memories of my first C program, I obliged without questioning and displayed my first "hello, world" in C++. Weeks passed, and I started to enjoy coding in C++. It was truly wonderful with all its functions and features that let the programmer have a great degree of control over the data he manipulated. Soon, I was coding fairly complex programs in C++, and got through my examination with a good score.

During my next year at college, I had a new language in my curriculum - Java. Looking forward to another programming language, I walked into my first Java lecture and found myself typing the command System.out.printLn("hello, world"). By now, it had become a ritual to start any programming language with the cryptic message that had puzzled me years ago in my first programming class. I went on to write better programs in Java, but "hello, world" was a mystic code to me, a piece of puzzle that I knew I had to fit in, but did not know how or why.

Now, after almost six years, I am learning a new programming language, xcode - for programming iPhone applications. Any guesses about the first program I coded?

Why does "hello, world" start off a programming language, has been a nagging question that has lingered in my head for quite a while now. All my searches and exploring have led to the common answer - "hello, world" was the sentence used by Kernighan and Ritchie in the introductory chapter of their 'C programming' book. Still, it is amusing that none of the other authors/languages have not tried breaking the tradition; everyone continues using "hello, world" as the gateway to the expanses of every programming language. Let's hope that the jinx is broken soon and the next generation of programmers start their coding life with something 'cooler' than "hello, world".

Reminiscence

2009-07-22T00:46:00.000-07:00

I still remember vividly that period of time during my undergrad. I was in my second semester. She didn't like me much during those days. Our brief encounters were generally curt and to-the-point. I wouldn't speak much with her, and she would talk to me only when necessary.

I was tense. It was the day of the final semester lab examinations. I was sitting in my chair in the System Software Lab, having been asked to simulate the first pass of a two pass assembler as my lab exercise for the exam. Though this was not one of the harder programs, it certainly was not one of the easiest. Put my noncoperative luck during D-days into the mix, and I was looking at an uphill task. Next to me, I could see my friend Ankit smiling at his paper. Apparently he must have gotten the relocating loader, one of the easiest ones. Across me, Gopal was fidgeting warily with his paper. I guessed immediately that the dreaded second pass of the Dynamic Linking Loader had found its way into the hands of the only person in our class that could dare to stand up to the challenge. My eyes glanced carelessly over the room, and I was seeing a motley of expressions, some glad, some relieved, some scared, some hopeful and some woe-begone looks amongst my classmates. Forcing myself to think about the issue at hand, I looked back at my sheet. However hard I stared at the paper, the question adamantly refused to make itself easier. Deciding that I had to take a new approach, I started writing down the algorithm on the answer sheet, just to relieve my tension. My fingers were a little shaky, so I knew that I had made the right choice by choosing to write the algorithm first. Programming with a nervous mind generally ends in disaster. It took me 20 minutes to complete writing the algorithm. I still had around 2 hours and 40 minutes to tackle the code. I turned my computer on, got the exam login from the lab assistant, Mr.Tamilselvan, and opened the Linux VI editor. Taking a deep breath, I looked once more at the question sheet, desperately hoping that the question would have morphed itself into something easier. The same words I had looked at 20 minutes earlier jeered at me, as though they were daring me to take a crack at the program. My fingers were growing cold. It was then, that I saw her again. She looked at me, it was just a glance, but for some reason, my tension culminated to the point where I could hear my heartbeat. She seemed to be amused that I was sweating in the air conditioned room. True, I was looking like a dog that had been subject to a forceful shower. I looked back at her, and managed a tiny smile. She smiled back, and that seemed to relieve the tension to an extent. I started coding.

For an hour, I tackled the program, making changes to my original draft, executing the program, debugging it for errors, and making sure that the output looked reasonably acceptable. I was doing a good job I guess, because I could no longer hear my heartbeat and my breathing resumed to normal. After an hour, I was satisfied with my work, partially, to be honest. At this point, you must put up with me because I need to explain what I was supposed to be showing as output. The output for my program required me to parse the input file, reading all the symbols, and assign addresses to each instruction. These would represent the program counter values. Additionally, I was supposed to generate a symbol table, which should contain all the variables used in the instruction set, along with their address. Now that I have made this clear, let me tell you where the problem was. My parser was working fine, and it was displaying addresses for all the instructions in the input file. However, when I opened the symbol table file that I was supposed to be populating, an empty file stared back at me. I tried changing a few things in the program, but it wouldn't give in. I even tried typing in the symbol table entries. But after I ran the program, it would erase itself. I was vexed. I was tired. I sat back in my chair for a couple of minutes, thinking of other alternatives for this. My father had once told me that broad thinking would actually help in a crisis, and that there is no single route to success. He had always advocated the importance of having a backup plan incase the main plan failed. This was what struck my mind at that moment, sitting in the examination hall. I looked up. She was standing near me again, smiling at my monitor, which was now displaying the screensaver, having been idle for 5 minutes. I hastily pressed the space bar, and my program popped up. She chuckled to herself, and walked away, smiling. I couldn't help but smile at the mirth of the situation. I half wished she had not come near me, since a plan was formulating in my mind, and her arrival had interrupted its development. I willed myself to resume my thought-process, and in 5 minutes, my plan was clear. It was exactly as my father had said. I had a backup plan, one that would most likely succeed, and if it didn't, I still had about an hour left to dwell on other alternatives.

At this point, I opened up my program, and looked at the instruction where I was creating my symbol table. It read as follows: "f = fopen("symtab.txt","w");" This was a command to open the file called "symtab.txt", which should be populated with the symbol table values. This was the file that kept erasing itself, when I ran the program. I changed that line. Now, it was looking as follows: "f = fopen("ashsslabsymtab.txt","w");". It was just the same command, except that I had made the file name more complex. That had been my purpose. I executed the program, and opened that file. I already knew that changing file names don't change outputs, so it didn't come as a surprise that the file was empty. I looked around me, everyone was busy typing, this was the moment. I opened the directory where the file was stored, and manually created another file, and called it "ashss1absymtab.txt". If you had noticed carefully, this file is actually different from the one I had invoked in my program, I had replaced the 'l' of the lab with '1'. Since 'l' and '1' look similar, it is hard to notice unless you are looking for it. I opened this file that I had created, and typed in the output that I was supposed to be seeing. I executed the program again. The file invoked by the program was still empty, but this new file that I had manually entered was intact, since the program didn't invoke it at any point. My work was done.

She was coming near me again. My adrenaline level was rising. I was starting to hear the rhythmic heartbeat from within me. When she was a couple of feet away, I beckoned to her. She smiled at me, and came to me. I told her that I was done with the exercise. She wanted to take a look at it. I executed the program, and the addresses of the instructions popped up flawlessly. She was impressed. She asked me if she could take a look at the symbol table. I quickly opened the file that I had manually created and showed it to her. It had the values I had entered. She was happy. She smiled at me again, and wrote something on a piece of paper. The external instructor visiting from a nearby college called me, and told me that I had completed the programming exercise, and that I had the verbal questioning section left. She asked me questions regarding the course material, and I was able to answer most of them right. She gave me a bright smile, and told me that my exam was over. I wished her a good day, and came out of the lab. It was over.

A month later, the results came out. I had scored 98/100. A very good score, although I wasn't entirely sure if I deserved it. My conscience accused me of cheating, while my ego came to my aid and called it presence of mind in a crisis. I told myself that Ends justify the Means, and all that mattered now was that I had completed this exam with a good score. During the course of my undergrad, I met her loads of times, but after the lab examination, something had changed. We became good friends.

Three years later, I attended her wedding engagement. She was someone whom I would not forget. Someone special. I gave her a complimentary gift, and wished her a joyous married life. Yes, her name is Gayathri, and yes, she was my professor during my undergrad.

TRUE LOVE

2008-05-17T00:50:00.000-07:00

Hey, this is another poem by the poet, Enigma, from orkut... Found it good, so put it up here... Read and Comment...

I was with my friends, on a tour,
'T was then that True Love found me
Embracing me in the streets of Bangalore,
It hid its identity for me to reveal.

The setting was not cut out for love,
Quite opposite, I was an open wound.
In retrospection I realize now,
Love had recognized breeding ground.

Days etched in my memory, for life,
When I grieved for a mirage of love.
Ironically through sadness and strife,
True Love was right by me, while I cried in anguish.

Love stayed by me as I despaired in grief,
Teaching me its true meaning.
Endeavoring to provide relief,
Though I occasionally snapped at it.

Gently weaving its lovely magic,
Love began healing my torn soul.
Life that had once appeared so tragic,
Changed course and started promising joy.

In a couple of years, I was fully well,
The stage was set, the time had come.
After a phase of excruciating hell,
Love unveiled itself, revealing its true form.

From raging beast to purring feline, the best days of my life,
Through the echelons of my heart, Love found its way.
Unwilling to let go, I decided to hang on for life,
A decision I haven't regretted to this day.

DEAD MAN TALKING...MOURNING TOO

2008-01-19T22:07:00.000-08:00

It was a great day, bright and clear. The night before, me and my two friends Srutin and Srikanth had gone out on my bike and returned late. It was late by the time we slept, almost 1 am. We'd planned to spend the next day at the nearby beach enjoying the cold water of the Bay of Bengal. A beautiful holiday, at least that was what we thought. We got up early, around 7am and Srutin made noodles for the trip. We packed it in a box and took off on my motorbike, three of us on the same bike. The beach was about 30 kms away from my house, so it was a long journey. We reached the beach around 10am and got into the cool water. The waves stroked our bodies and we went in till the water reached our mid section. It was awesome playing around with the waves, jumping up as they crashed against us and an occasional wave catching us off guard, drenching us completely with salt and sand. An hour passed uneventfully and we were still in the water enjoying ourselves thoroughly. It was at that moment Fate intervened. A huge wave almost 4-5 feet above the surface of the water came rushing at us and consumed us whole. For a couple of seconds my breath was taken away and I didn't know where I was. Once I caught my composure, I realized I was underwater. I came to the surface and saw my two friends one in front of me nearer to the shore, and one a couple of yards behind me. By this time, we were about 20 feet out into the sea. Srutin and Srikanth panicked and started yelling my name. I shouted for them to try and swim to the shore. Srikanth was ahead of me, about 15 feet from the shore. Srutin was 2 feet behind me and started yelling frantically. I yelled at him to start swimming towards shore. The saddest thing is that, I don't know much of swimming and I think those two knew a bit about swimming having swum in the local lakes and ponds. But the sea is an entirely different issue altogether. I yelled at Srutin to start swimming. I started swimming myself. By the time I was a couple of feet forward, I saw that Srutin was still behind me, HE WASN'T SWIMMING, HE WASN'T EVEN TRYING. I yelled at him to start swimming. He was fully panicked and didn't even try swimming. By this time, my arms were tired of swimming. I was nowhere near the shore. The calm sea had turned into a furious wrath. Srikanth was nowhere in my sights. This wasn't working. I decided that it was futile trying to get him to swim or carry him to shore, since I myself didn't know swimming properly. I started swimming towards the shore more furiously now, ignoring the rushing sound of waves in my ears. The shore was about 20 feet in front of me. I paddled furiously battling for life but my efforts seemed to be in vain. For every few feet I swam towards the shore, the waves pulled me back into the sea a couple of feet. My arms and legs were tired. I willed myself not to stop my effort and kept battling away. Praying to God to stay by my side, I edged on, inch by inch closer to the shore. It was almost fifteen minutes of extreme swimming by the time I reached 5 feet near the shore. I was too scared to put my feet down and check for ground. So I kept swimming while simultaneously calling out to a couple of men who were on shore. They didn't understand me. Apparently they thought I was swimming comfortably. I was about 3 feet near the shore when finally they realized I was in trouble. By that time, I had my feet on the ground, back to waist deep water. They came running towards me and helped me out of the water. I slumped down on the shore breathless. Catching myself for a moment, I told them that a couple of my friends had been pulled into the water too. They alerted a few fishermen on the shore and started scanning the waters for signs of them. Ten minutes went by. There was still no sign of my friends. The fishermen told me that they must have drowned. My heart stopped for a moment. I had not imagined this possibility. Then they saw that I was quite breathless. By this time, two more friends of mine from VIT who'd come to Nellore, came to the beach. Coincidentally, they had planned to spend the day at the beach too. One of them, seeing my appearance came running towards me. I told him what had happened. The nearby fishermen asked me to return home immediately and change into some dry clothes. I rang up my dad and told him the situation. With my friend, I started back to Nellore. All the way back, my thoughts were on Srutin and Srikanth, praying that they be alive, somehow. I reached my home and saw that Dad, Mom and my sister were there. Coincidentally they had come to Nellore on the same day. I changed into some dry clothes. Dad told me that we needed to inform the local police about the issue. We drove to the police station near the beach. By this time, the police had heard from the local fishermen about the incident. We informed the police and together, we drove to the beach. It was two o clock by then. As we reached the beach around 2.30, the local people had found Srutin's body driven ashore by the waters. He was dead. They had placed him a little distance from the shore. By this time, his relatives had reached the place and were distraught. Srikanth's parents were still frantically searching the waters for their son. An hour later, Srikanth's body came to the shore too. The next few hours were consumed in a sea of lament as relatives near and dear to the deceased were bereft with tears. The police took an official statement from me regarding the incident and by the time it was over, the time was 8.30. We dropped the policemen at the station and went back to Nellore. On our way home, we stopped at a local hotel for dinner. I hadn't eaten anything since morning, but my appetite was gone. The sight of my friends lying dead, their mouths frothing, was nauseating and I didn't feel like eating. I ate little and we returned home. My limbs were exhausted to the point of getting out of my control and my throat was sore from yelling. Dad gave me a couple of pills and asked me to sleep. I fell on the bed and was asleep instantly.

What had started out to be an enjoyable trip ended in disaster. I felt disgusted at Nellore and the sea, that had robbed these people away from me. Srutin was my friend since I was in 2nd standard. He was more a brother to me than a friend, spending more time at my place than his. Srikanth was dear to me too, the three of us were so close. These two were about the closest friends I had ever had, and would probably have.

MISSING SOMEONE...

2008-01-07T07:19:00.000-08:00

"Dei ******, I'm scared if we'll if we'll stay this way forever da, as best friends. I'm scared if something would separate us."

"Don't worry ****, nothing like that would happen. Now sleep, it's 2 in the morning."

How wrong I was. The days we were together, without a care for the world, always a smile dancing on our lips, a twinkle in our eyes, standing up for each other at all times. I could almost say everyone around us was envious of our friendship. Many of them even revealed traces of their envy. We didn't care, we were reckless juveniles carting through cloud nine.

I still remember those days, when our friendship was at its blooming best. The number of days he had stayed back at the lab with me, just because I wanted to complete some program we needed to submit the following week. The instances he came along with me on boring journeys just because I'd feel lonely, the way he used to tease me about -, well, that's another issue altogether, the way he used to tease me, it's all etched in my memory. And I don't think it'll be erased anytime soon. The time when he was down with fever and couldn't eat normal food, I still recollect the way I rocketed down three flights of stairs taking four steps at a time, to get him a loaf of bread and a jug of warm milk. And I don't think he knows it, but I stayed awake that whole night, watching over him. It was all so natural, we were extremely attached to each other. The nights before the semester exams when he'd declare in dismay that he was definitely going to fail the exams. I'd sit with him and we'd study together, boosting up his confidence. It just came, no one asked us to be that way, it was something along the lines of Damon and Pythias or Achilles and Patrocles or -, cut it, like those fellows.

If you ask me how Fate can screw you till you're in deep shit, I'd show you our friendship. Over a period of one year, I don't know what happened, it could have been development of other outlets, it could have been because we couldn't spend as much time together as we did, it could have been because both of us were too consumed by our ego to confront the other and talk it out, it could have been due to a hundred other reasons I can quote, but fact remains that we're not the same anymore. I don't say I'm not happy, I have friends who care for me and keep me going. The same applies to him too. Still, it feels like a part of me is missing, like how a person who has recently had his arm amputated feels for his hand involuntarily and realizes with a pang of shock mixed with sorrow that it is not there. It feels like a vital organ of mine has been removed. In all other aspects of life, I'm on top of the world, and I've got every reason to feel so, having almost got to undergraduate college with a good academic record and having made great friends in college. Yet when I try to tell myself that I feel on top of the world, a nagging voice inside me mocks at me, "Try saying that again". I know I can't. In reality, I don't give feel on top of the world. It's like being the richest man on earth with all possible avenues for pleasure, yet cursed with paralysis, unable to enjoy anything. Some part is gone, something you sorely miss.

I almost feel that the secret desire of some people has been fulfilled. We were that enviable, almost to the extent of being arrogant that nothing would or rather, could separate us. Ironically, it's Fate's way of reminding you "Man proposes, God kicks him on his backside".

Revelations...

2007-09-18T11:08:00.000-07:00

One fine morn, I was walking through a grassy path when I saw a bright red stone. It impressed me at the first sight. Without a doubt that it was a valuable gem, I picked it up and put it carefully in my pocket. A few days later, I was going through the same path again. This time, I saw a piece of rock lying there. Something told me that I should pick it up and take it with me. I obliged and picked it up, and put it in my pocket, not giving it another thought for weeks. Meanwhile the red stone which I had found earlier had most of my attention. I placed it in the showcase and boasted all about it to friends, neighbors and anyone who cared to listen. All this time, the little piece of rock sat in a corner in my cupboard, confined to the dark, unnoticed by anyone. Months passed on this way, the red stone lived in my showcase, and the rock stayed in my cupboard. Ironically, even if I missed the red stone, I couldn't help looking at the rock that was in my cupboard. Every time I opened my cupboard, I felt it smiling at me, as though we held an unspoken relationship. I acknowledged the rock, still treasured the red stone in my showcase. The rock continued to keep me company from within my cupboard while the red stone sniffed haughtily when I turned towards it. Slowly I found that in spite of my will, the rock grew closer to me, and the red stone continued to grace me with its indifference. A couple of years went by this way, and ironically, I felt that I could spend an entire week without looking at the red stone, but I needed to see my little piece of rock every day. The memories of the thoughts we had silently shared together had become priceless and dear to me. It culminated to a point where I began taking the rock along with me in my pocket, unwilling to part from it. The red stone still stayed in the showcase, a souvenir of my trip to the forest. One day, a friend of mine, a gem expert, visited my place, and looking at the red stone started laughing. I was puzzled, once could appreciate the stone, one could admire it, but laugh, I couldn't even contemplate the reason. I waited till he calmed down, then asked him the reason for this sudden burst. He told me that such red stones were commonly found in that forest and though they looked like rubies, they were worthless. Many people had been fooled before and I was one more added to the list. That had been the reason for his laughter. I was, at first shocked, then angry, then embarrassed at my stupidity. I had fallen for it. Still a bit sore owing to my hurt ego, I managed to walk over to the showcase, removed the red stone and dropped it into the trash can. Incidentally, as I bent over to drop the red stone, the little piece of rock in my pocket rolled out on to the floor. I picked it up and as I was putting it in my pocket, my friend snatched at my hand, holding it firmly. I was puzzled once again, wondering what in God's name my friend was trying to do. He asked me where I found my little rock. I told him the entire story, how I found it, and had kept it in my cupboard for two years, before taking it out. He seemed flabbergasted hearing my tale, and asked me, in quite a vehement tone, if I had ever bothered to wipe it clean with a piece of cloth. True, it had never occurred to me, I hadn't bothered to. He then extracted his pocket toolkit and took out a piece of sponge from it. After carefully rubbing the edges of the rock with the sponge, he let out an exclamation. I had decided by then that this was a day of surprises for me. So I asked him once again what his expression was attributed to. He told me calmly that the rock I had carried carelessly with me in my pocket all these days was a Burmese red ruby, a gemstone worth about two million US dollars. Naturally I was stunned by this revelation. It took me a moment to regain my composure. Once I returned to my senses, he handed me back the stone and told me that these rubies were extremely rare, and only 4 such rubies have ever been found. I was holding a fifth ruby, fifth in the whole world. I then realized the full value of my 'little piece of rock'. No wonder I had felt that feeling of closeness when I first saw it lying on the grassy path. It was destined to be mine. I decided that it would be. I would never part with it. It would be with me till the day I lived, my 'little piece of rock'. Appearances are indeed, deceptive.

The Wall Crumbling??? Who should take over the reins?

2007-09-16T07:33:00.000-07:00

What a dramatic decision by Rahul Dravid, to give up the post of the captain of the Indian Cricket team... I mean, it was only 3 months back, during the world cup, that most experts felt it was time for Dravid to step down as captain, still the Wall stood firm, ignoring criticism... now all the cynics have turned their attention to other stuff, and Mr. Dependable makes an entry onto the front page by announcing his retirement as captain... The reason, Dravid says that the Indian public and media are so reactive to loss, that two or three bad matches provoke an extreme reaction towards the team... Such a scenario makes the chances of improvement very difficult... Further, Dravid feels that the pressure of captaincy has at last got to his nerves... His own game has deteriorated over the past few months... In view of this, he feels it's time to hand over the reins to one of his colleagues and concentrate on his personal game...

The next big issue is, who's going to don the captain's cap now? There are three possible choices... The first option would be Sachin Tendulkar... This maestro is undoubtedly the legend of Indian cricket... he has been the captain of India in the past, but unfortunately captaincy hasn't favored him much... he isn't considered a successful captain... still he has got the experience and the caliber to lead the team...

The next choice would be the former Indian captain, Sourav Ganguly... Having made a comeback into the Indian team, Ganguly has not looked back ever since... Even when all other players have failed, Ganguly has held his ground and continued his blitzkrieg, a reminder to the critics that he hasn't given it up yet... 'Dada' as he is fondly called has been a successful captain in the past, his brave decisions paying off... people still remember the match versus South Africa where they needed 8 runs off the last over, with Klusener at his blasting best... Ganguly coolly tossed the ball over to Sehwag for the last over... To the dismay of the African crowd, Klusener was standing helpless, unable to score off Sehwag's slow flighted deliveries, and India won the match... Such is the tenacity of our 'Dada'...

Another choice would be the latest sensation of the Indian team, Mahendra Singh Dhoni... he was the vice captain of the team that won the under-19 World Cup a few years back... he is currently the captain of the Indian team in the Twenty20 series... he is a possible option for being the captain, though experience would count against him...

Personally, I feel that the captaincy should be given back to 'Dada' Ganguly... his record as captain has been extremely good, before he was unceremoniously stripped off his captaincy and his place in the team, under the pretext of being psychologically unstable... Ganguly has a cool head and the knack of making daring decisions that more often than not, pay off... moreover, Sachin's personal game suffered greatly during his captaincy and that is too big a gamble to take again... Dhoni doesn't have the international experience to become a captain right now, though he is a promising prospect for the future... Under the current circumstances, it would be the perfect role for Ganguly to don the mantle and take over the reins as the Indian captain... yet again...

TOUCHING...

2007-09-08T08:06:00.000-07:00

I found this poem in a community in orkut... i liked it, so i thought i would put it up here... by the way, it was written by someone under the pen name, Enigma...

The day begins afresh, bright and new,
Welcoming the event in its surreal dawn
The Angel known fully to the selected few,
Turns an year older, counting the day she was born

Dressed in silks of pearl white,
She steps daintily into the hall
Her eyes glowing with pride, so bright,
Stealing the attention of one and all

Behind the shadows stays a poor young man,
Praised by his fellowmen, and cursed by Fate
By his love for the dame, an ardent fan
A bouquet rests in his hand, for his soul mate

Great men step forward to present their gifts,
He waits till the end, patience, he has a lot
Kneeling before her, head bowed, the wreath he lifts,
Will she grace his love or not?

- Enigma

Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder

2007-08-23T11:45:00.000-07:00

"A thing of beauty is a joy forever"
- Keats

This is one of my favorite one liners... true, a beautiful thing cheers you up, no matter what it is... it might be a flower, a baby, a poem, a game even a joke... I'm sure everyone will agree to this... now comes the tougher part of it... please define beauty for me... yeah, right, I ask you a question, What is beauty? What is your perception of beauty, in other words, what appears beautiful to you? The answer to this question is a very complex one, and changes with each individual...

if i ask kshitij (the jester of the group), the likely answer would be "a hot chick is beautiful da machan"... hmm, it could be so... that's his opinion... if hot chicks cheer him up (no offense blingy, just an example), hot chicks are indeed beautiful to him...

next, let's ask prabu, the eternal pain (lol, my nickname for him, apart from sadist, necrolyte and a lot of others I'd rather not mention here, lest i get diverted)... prabu's view of beauty could be a magnum sniper rifle, it's long and slender barrel glinting in the sunlight... yeah, that sounds convincing, an AWP (magnum sniper rifle) can definitely be a beautiful thing for prabu...

aren't the two answers we got totally unrelated, i mean, you can't compare a girl with a gun... atleast not in terms of beauty... still, that's what it is... there lies the complexity in this issue... i say, no one can define beauty in general terms... the closest approximation depends on the individual... one could say, "beauty is anything that gives joy"... I could always argue "The anxious look on a girl's face waiting for her loveris beautiful"... there's nothing joyful in that, still it's beauty... likewise, there could be many versions of beauty, each one completely different from the rest...

my opinion, i consider a lot of things beautiful... for one, i think wordsworth poems are beautiful, the vivid descriptions of nature and its subtle intricacies... then, counter strike is beautiful... i could stay tuned for about 23 hours a day without getting tired of it... some people i find beautiful... (I'm not mentioning anyone from class, I'd be screwed by the controversy) my math teacher from 5th std was beautiful ( I mean the way she taught, not the looks, btw she was 54yrs old when I was in my 5th)... and coming to the more subtle things, the babble of a newborn baby is beautiful, the smile of a child is beautiful, as i mentioned previously, the anxious look on the face of an expectant lover, the serene beauty of a forest at night, the calmness of the sea(in retrospection, the sea looks disgusting, after the Jan 12th event), the splatter of rain against the window panes, the glow on the faces of a newly wed couple, the bewildered look of a child as he/she first goes to school, all these are beautiful...

P.S: OMG, what a post... never thought I'd write about something as abstract as this... it came as a passing thought in class when i was musing in gayathri mam's hour(:P i'd rather not mention what I'm thinking right now)... and materialized at about 12.30 in the night, when I could find nothing better to do...

Books vs Experience

2007-08-21T06:13:00.000-07:00

What's your choice? Are you the trademark nerd, preferring to stick to the books and stuff in knowledge till your brain can't hold more? Or are you the endeavoring daredevil, seeking pleasure in practicality, exploring new avenues and picking up pointers on your journey through life? Nothing wrong in choosing one, both have their pluses and minuses... Gimme a moment, I'll elaborate... Before that, let me make my stand clear... I'm maverick material, i prefer learning stuff by staying in the actual picture instead of visualizing an ethereal scenario...

Now, let's see what it would be like to have a discussion between two ardent supporters of their own choices, Mr. Bookworm and Mr. Maverick...

Narrator: Welcome, Gentlemen-
Maverick: Aww! Cut out the crap, get on with it...
Narrator: Well, go ahead guys, you know the issue...

[Scene Starts with Mr. Bookworm sitting upright in a chair, his blue shirt neatly tucked into the black formals, his glasses a touch askew, a sign that he'd been reading until moments before this meeting. In contrast, Mr. Maverick is sitting casually, in a t-shirt with the caption "FU" and a worn out jeans, his legs crossed at an angle, his eyes fleeting occasionally to the contemptuous figure before him]

Mr. Maverick: So, Mr. Bookworm, you think books are better than practical knowledge?

Mr. Bookworm: Of course Mr. Maverick, it is obvious. According to Newton-

Mr. Maverick: Aww, screw Newton, tell me what YOU think.

Mr. Bookworm: Er, I totally believe books are invaluable for gaining knowledge. It cannot be otherwise. [accompanied by an incredulous look]

Mr. Maverick: I must apologize I refuse to see your point. What is the use of books if you're going to spend all your life shut in a room reading them? Start the real thing man, come out of your cocoon.

Mr. Bookworm: Reading is essential to live. Otherwise you'd be overwhelmed by your surroundings.

Mr. Maverick: And what better way to live than to actually living it? You mean to say, you live and learn by reading instead of coming out and facing the real thing?

Mr. Bookworm: If you read, you'd be prepared to meet 'the real thing', whatever it may be.

Mr. Maverick: And when would that be? You'd be shunning away from it, under the pretext that you're 'preparing' for it.

Mr. Bookworm: That's preposterous.

Mr. Maverick: It is what it is.

Mr. Bookworm: OK, I'll ask you something. Imagine you don't know anything about swimming. You're pushed into a lake. What CAN you do? Instead, if you'd read about how to swim and float, you have a chance to survive. Can you counter that?

Mr. Maverick: You do have a point there.

Mr. Bookworm: Yes I do, and that's the reason I say books are better any day.

Mr. Maverick: I must oppose, life doesn't pre-plan everything for you. You can't expect to learn EVERYTHING. You must learn to adapt and survive, which you get only from experience. I mean to say, you have read about swimming, fine, but think you haven't read about fighting, and you're suddenly faced by a couple of goons. What would you do? Ask them for a moment to run to the nearest library?

Mr. Bookworm: Well, that would be a prudent thing to do, but-

Mr. Maverick: It would be, assuming those two goons are thick as trolls. In any normal scenario, you wouldn't stand a chance. You need experience , practical knowledge on how to tackle them. Even to run to your library, you need to come up with a convincing excuse, for which you need practical knowledge...there aren't many books labeled "1000 excuses for all occasions".

Mr. Bookworm: Yes, you're right on that one.

Mr. Maverick: Um, yeah, and there's another thing. You can gain a lot of street smartness from experience that isn't there in the books.

Mr. Bookworm: If you adhere to what's there in the books, you wouldn't need that street smartness in the first place.

Mr. Maverick: Probably, but what if something unexpected happens? Like the 'out of syllabus' stuff?

Mr. Bookworm: That would be a slight problem.

Mr. Maverick: Of course it would be.

Mr. Bookworm: Still, Mr. Maverick, I prefer to play safe... Knowledge from books is time tested and proved by great people.

Mr. Maverick: And how do you suppose those people came to know those things? By experience I must say... So again, experience prevails, my dear fellow...

Mr. Bookworm: Uh...

Mr. Maverick: Your bookish knowledge is like sitting in a camp reading about AKs and Uzis... Practical Knowledge is like being in the front, an AK in your hand. Books will help you little in such a situation-

Narrator: Excuse me , people, but we're running a bit late on this... If you could wind it up-

Mr. Maverick: Uh, OK [a touch of irritation in his voice, at being disturbed]

Mr. Maverick: So Mr. Bookworm, what do you say?

Mr. Bookworm: Uh, I must agree you're right about certain things.

Mr. Maverick: And you've got some good points too.

Narrator: So guys, I guess I'll sum up the discussion then... Knowledge from books is essential, but it's of little value without experience. I remember one saying in this context. It goes like this... "Knowledge is like a boat, Experience is like the sea. You can go to the sea without a boat, but a boat is of no use without the sea"

Of screwdrivers and scratches...

2007-08-17T06:13:00.000-07:00

What happens when things get beyond you? How would you react if everything around you seems to be collapsing upon you? What would you do if faced if things over which you have no control over engulfed you? How would it feel to be alone in this world, with not a soul to care for you? What would be your answer to life's toughest questions? How would it be if a person you loved deeply and cared for intensely started accusing you and getting upset because of something you did for his/her good? If all the above mentioned happens at a time you're already finding it difficult to get along, it'd push you over the edge...

Sometimes, you feel life's not worth all the tension and care you give it, things just go they way they are destined to be... But you can't just leave it at that... You tend to try to modify situations to suit you and if that doesn't work, you get desperate... Take an instance, where you try to convince someone about something for a period of six to eight months... The period is trying for both of you, but deep down within your heart, you're convinced that what you say is for the welfare of both of you... For six months, you try to explain the matter to the other person, while trying to convince him/her about the consequences... When that person has a different perspective on the issue, it gets a bit tough... Emotions are stretched and a sort of rift develops... The extremity of this leads to unprecedented accusations and unpleasant feelings... What CAN you do? You're helpless, desperate and filled with anguish... That is when you get hold of a screw driver and start working on your hand, trying to etch something drastical on the inner part of your forearm... It ends up as a collage of bloody marks, each one a memoir of the incident...

Biking - A Reckless Passion or a Fatal Desire?

2007-08-16T05:19:00.000-07:00

The period of life from the late teens to the late twenties(sometimes early thirties) is, what i feel, the best part of a person's life... By the age of seventeen or eighteen, a person would truly experience and appreciate the joys and wonders of life... I mean to say, before that, he would be too immature to realize, and into his thirties, he would be too busy to... One of the favorite past times of most youngsters, at least the boys, is to zoom on their bike, trying for a cameo imitation of the 'Dhoom' movie bikers... In this regard, I wonder aloud, is biking worth the risk it involves? As soon as you see this question you may 'huff' me off as a spoilsport nerd, but if you care to read on, you'll see that I am not anything of the sort...

Everyday I see a newspaper column showing some ghastly bike accident, it's 9 out of 10 times, the same scene... the biker killed on the spot, and the bike, more a heap of rubble than anything related to a two wheeled automobile... Everytime I see this, I tend to rip that page out of the paper and do off with it... I think most of you would have guessed the reason... the instant my mom sees that, she would start off on a traffic-discipline session that is most vexing at the beginning of a day... She would say everything in such a melodramatic fashion, you could almost say it was taken out of a movie... If this is one thing, Dad's different altogether... Emphasizing on careful speed and good control, he would move on to how accidents happen even when there's absolutely no fault of the rider's... I would be tempted to ask, "What the hell can I do about something that's not under my control?", but would refrain, just for the fact that it would trigger off another session of enlightening speech... After years of such feedback, these thoughts manifest sometimes, in my opinion, and my perspective of biking...

I love bikes, as a rule... I love taking my bike out for a ride, whatever be the time, especially favoring the nights, when there is little traffic and lots of cool breeze to caress you as you coast through the roads... But, hmmm, I see a but coming... Everything has its limits, that's my feeling... I mean to say, going on your bike at 70kmph at 1AM, in the dead of the night, when the roads are virtually empty, is one thing... Trying out the same thing at 1PM, in the afternoon, when the traffic is at its peak, is something like welcoming accidents... For instance, i don't travel at more than 50kmph during the day, my dad's voice ringing in my ears... "If you try to save 10 minutes by riding fast, you'll lose 10 days, admitted in the hospital"... This sort of words, though irritating to listen to at the moment, will appear sensible once you start to think patiently... True enough, I see no harm in going at 50kmph, rather than 70, the difference in the time taken to reach the destination, 15 mins at the maximum... The risk's not worth the time you save... Another factor to stress upon is the use of helmets... Biking is a completely safe activity as long as you wear a helmet... From the past, it's observed that 95% of deaths in bike accidents are due to head injuries... Wearing a helmet protects you from that risk and makes bike riding substantially safer... I don't see any problem in wearing a helmet as long as i can ride my bike...

My view of this whole issue, Enjoy life, but take care you are in a position to enjoy life... you can;t enjoy life if you're stuck to a wheelchair all your life, or have to walk on crutches... Live safe, live happily...

MA TUJHE SALAAM...

2007-08-15T00:55:00.000-07:00

The sixtieth year of our Independence dawns brightly upon us... an appropriate time to reminiscence the history of our struggle... the independence that we so comfortably enjoy is the fruit of innumerable hardships faced by our freedom fighters, in order to get us this luxury... it is only fair to give them their place in the memoirs of Indian Independence... feel the adrenaline rush through your limbs every time you proudly say "I'm an Indian"... yes, with India evolving as one of super powers, challenging USA and Russia in every aspect, be it scientific inventions, be it space exploration, be it extra terrestrial navigation, the word "Indian" certainly deems respect wherever it is heard... yet what made this possible? the freedom, being elevated as a formidable force, the feeling of being looked up at... it was the relentless struggle of our forefathers against the stubborn Englishmen that brought us our freedom, and consequently, our place in the world...

Spare a thought for Mahatma Gandhi, the 'Father' of our nation... though his way of action raised a bit of controversy, with his 'satya' and 'ahimsa' replacing brute force, the results of his deeds leave no doubts for the critics... Born a simpleton, he gained the apotheosis of manhood, with his endless patient struggle against the Britishers... the 'Quit India Moment', the culmination of his efforts proved too much for the British... they were forced to accept that it was time to leave... Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, a common man, now, a 'Mahatma', the 'Father' of our nation, he is worthy of these titles, a rightful acknowledgement for a great man...

Subash Chandra Bose, 'Netaji', often shadowed by the efforts of the Mahatma and Chacha Nehru, he waged a lone battle against the English with his own troop of soldiers... Believing that only unrelenting force can drive out the British, he kept ramming against their forces, until the day he passed on, in an air crash... a great man, no doubt...

Jawaharlal Nehru, 'Chachaji', the first Prime Minister of Free India, he chose a relatively softer path... while supporting the ongoing freedom struggle, he stirred the hearts of the people through his writings... as a retribution to his works, he spent several years in jail... later, he rose to being the 'Prime Minister' of free India, his image still fresh in the hearts of the children he always loved...

Sardar Vallabhai Patel, the 'Iron Man of India', rightly called so for his nearly endless willpower, he played a major role throughout the freedom struggle and a greater role after achieving freedom... It was Sardar Patel that convinced the provincial rulers to concede their territories to the united 'India'... though his task was left in the background, few still remember the courage and willpower it took to convince the already power hungry rulers into submission...

These three are only a minuscule compared to what India's heritage stores... every moment that we live, free, answerable to no one, we must spare a moment to remember these eminent souls, as an honor to their efforts...

Cloud 10 freaks out on the ECR for the weekend

2007-08-12T13:06:00.001-07:00

Fresh breeze... The rushing sound of the waves attenuating as they lap against the coast... The pleasant scent filling the air... Presenting to you, a marvelous weekend for the cloud 10, as they decided to check out the ECR front of chennai...

The occasion(do we need one?!!!), was Satti's birthday... Having had a fitful sleep last night(thanks to the 39-2 score in dota and the 29-13 in CS), I woke up late at around 11AM [:p]... A few of my relatives were gracing us with their visit, so I unwillingly forced myself into the bath and came out, still tired from last night's gaming... Satti and Giri came to tell me that they had left the bike(which Satti had borrowed the previous day) in the parking space... I wished Satti a joyous and memorable birthday, and they left... An hour later, the relatives came... I resigned myself to my room, not being the gregarious type... An hour of dota followed and I was idly(it's the present continuous form of 'idle', not the south indian 'delicacy' [:p]) killing the pitiable Necrolyte for about the 25th time when my mobile phone suddenly came to life, as if reminding me of its presence... It was Satti... the message was short... be at the gang's place by 2PM... As usual, I didnt delve into the issue... I just said I'd be there... he asked me to bring my bike's papers along... Finding something worthwhile to do, I searched for the papers and found them(at last) in a file, buried deep within the pile which i realized were my clothes... I changed fast and told mom that I'd be late... I rushed to the place and saw that everyone was dressed(may sound odd, but by 'dressed', I mean, they were dressed for an outing)... I soon realized we were going to the ECR... In about fifteen minutes, five bikes, with ten reckless juveniles were zooming along the roads of chennai, without a care for anything mundane or supernatural...

We reached the beach at around 5PM... Having decided to go for a movie at 7, we planned to stay out of the water... Apparently, the omnipotent thought otherwise... Under a sudden impulse, Balaji(KK) and Hari hauled Satti and started towards the water... They were soon joined by the rest of us, eager to help them in the 'mission'... A moment later, Satti found himself among the waves, drenched head to feet... Soon, the party extended to the rest of us, everyone taking turns at hoisting others and 'heave-ho' into the water he goes... We decided it wouldn't work to stay out of the water... So we got in and had a real gala time in there... the waves slamming against us, relentlessly as we tried to put up a bit of a fight... After an our, we were forced to accept... Nature was better at it, i guess it's because of experience(we're 20 years old, she is about 500 billion... an unfair fight)... tired but happy, we came out of the water, dried ourselves, to an extent, and went to the prarthana open air theatre... The movie 'Aarya'... a decent movie, not my type, though, with the heroine being a negative minded character... but it ended as all south indian movies do, the hero marrying the heroine and the bad guy going to prison... a long day, we decided to get back to our cozy homes... I was a tad irritated(i rather not go into the details, it's a bit uncomfortable), so I was riding the bike at a fairly high speed... In about half an hour, I dropped Arvind(Maya) at the 'place' and got back home... All in all, a wonderful day for the cloud 10... btw i forgot to mention the esteemed members who constitute the coveted gang called the 'cloud 10'... let's see... Ashwin(that's me), Arvind(Maya, my best buddy), Balaji(fondly called KK), Peri(the 'mama' of our gang, he is our godfather [:p]), Muthu(when he's around, it's always fun teasing him), Sathesh( a.k.a Satti, he's about 6'2 omg), Lakshmi Narayanan(the 'mokkai' of the gang, his jokes drive you mad, with anger more than humor), Amrish('kadai' as we call him, a fellow who's slightly thicker[:p] than a twig), Giri(the 'Neikkarapatti Nattamai') and Anbu('Peter' for his deliberate display of English)...

College Education - Is it a formality?

2007-08-10T08:15:00.000-07:00

I'm doing my seventh semester in college... it'll be only a few months before I am given my UG degree... Bachelor of Engineering, specialized in Computer Science and Engineering it would read... thinking about it, I feel a pang of guilt, surging through my veins, challenging me... are you eligible for this degree, the unseen voice asks, a quiet yet imposing voice... I'm at a loss... what do i say? Am i eligible for this degree... let me recollect, what are the areas that I studied, for the past 6 semesters...hmm, we started off with data structures, went on to design and analysis of algorithms, system software, object oriented programming, digital theory, then, visual programming, operating systems, computer architecture, analog and digital communication, well, what next, database systems, computer networks, theory of computation, microprocessors, wow getting deeper into the mire...then, artificial intelligence, compiler design, software engineering, computer graphics, data mining and warehousing... phew, that's quite a lot of knowledge for 3 years, isn't it...

I ask myself, out of the heap [;)] of topics there, which of them can I say I am reasonably well versed in... not Visual Programming... that was a nightmare, which all of us managed to clear by mugging up some important questions right at the eleventh hour (my friends will be eager to give testimony for that...raised quite a stir)... not Microprocessors, I don't even know what a microprocessor chip does(I'm being entirely honest here, no exaggeration), I wonder how i managed a 93 in the end semester exam... let's see probably, Data Structures, I can say I know quite a bit of the stuff, the linked lists and stacks and queues... then, my C++ is good too, I mean, I'm not a wizard at it, but I can manage decently with C++ if asked to do something related to it... Operating Systems is one subject I'm OK with, it's mostly how the internal stuff works, so it's OK... Data Mining, well, it is the only subject I read with interest after C++ in my 3rd semester... well that about sums it up... so am I, with barely 20 percent knowledge in what I have studied for the past three years, eligible for the degree I would be deemed worthy of...

It may sound weird, but to a certain extent, the college system is at fault... Just think, a semester goes on for about 4 months, during which there are 90 working hours for each subject... the three internal tests that are mandatory take up 3*1 week each i.e 3 weeks... and count the holidays in the semester... a month gone between the two... we have 3 months on our hands... three months for learning operating systems or computer architecture? doesn't it sound a task even Hercules might be dubious about... still, the budding engineers in the making manage it... ever wondered how it was possible? OK, try this out... a week after a semester exams end, go pick out a random student and ask him a question from any subject... i bet you, he'll fail to answer it... at least 9 out of 10 students are that way... believe me, it's true... All students do is to cramp up their minds with the minimum information they need to clear the paper, and be done with it... the result, a certificate in the subject with a zero knowledge about it... I don't think this system can go on this way... how many generations can go convincing themselves that they're engineers, when actually they're not... A possible solution to this could be to extend the duration of the semester... have it as one year, instead of one semester... let the college period be 6 years instead of 4... but let it be quality education... when a student is declared an undergraduate in a field, he must be able to emphatically endorse it... an engineer should really be what his degree says he is...

MARRIAGES MIGHT BE MADE IN HEAVEN, BUT FRIENDSHIP, DEFINITELY ON DEAR EARTH

2007-08-10T06:56:00.000-07:00

Do you have friends dear to you? Think of the first name that comes to your mind as you read this line... That name gives way to other names, each one stirring old memories like the sediments of a lake bring brought up into the open after a long time... Save a little time for these memories, they are what will keep you going when you're sixty, unable to walk, your hair pale and your body frail... Then, you will cherish these memories and feel an involuntary smile blooming on your lips... Friends may be many, but a few of them worth your memory... and that few will stay there forever... that's why i guess they say, "Relations may forsake you, friends follow you to heaven and hell"...

Friends at school, friends at college, friends at office, friends in your neighborhood... wherever you are, you'll never have a dearth for friendship if you're willing... The ten year old Billu who went with you to school everyday, shared his snacks with you, and played with you all evening is indeed a fond memory... grow up a bit, come to the stout Kiran, your co-back-bencher during your tenth to twelfth standards...the cracks about the teachers, the worries shared about the unfinished homework, the hours spent on the cricket pitch, the afternoons you spent at his place, chatting with his family... wow, brings back a lot eh? Buck up, get on with it, move to your college life... your 'gang', an elite group that gave a damn to just about anything and everything on earth... a carefree life... the look of anguish upon hearing that semester results are out, the joy in yelling out "I cleared all", the classes bunked together, the long bike journeys at blinding speed, deliberately deaf to advice... teasing the class 'pair'... college friends are probably the ones who occupy the center stage of your inner sanctum... omg, i can keep talking... this post is getting too long... anyway, just keep this in mind... don't lose your friends if it's the last thing you do in life... they're too good to be true, yet they are [:p]...

DOTA TIME - Who's this Sven???!!!

2007-08-09T12:31:00.001-07:00

SVEN OWNAGE

Sven - The Rogue Knight...My favorite sentinel hero in dota...the reason? simple, he owns any map, any hero...lol...that must raise a few eyebrows no doubt...I've heard people say "My Viper will wipe out Sven" and "Sven is no match for my Necrolyte"...Possibly true, but i say, unlikely...Know how to build your character and how to play with Sven, you'll soon start loving him...I got addicted to him from the FIRST time i played him...

I used to play Lina Inverse, a decent girl but not hero-killing material...Eventually, after a couple of matches, I was tired of getting pwned by easy bots...A moment i let my concentration waver, boom, "Lina Inverse the Sorceress has fallen", it says in a melodramatic voice (with a touch of melancholy to rub it in)...Soon, I found myself browsing online strategy guides, on the lookout for a good hero...It was then that I found this battle tank...

Built for being a killing machine, Sven was recommended by most players as one of the most powerful characters in the game...I didn't find his skills very enterprising, but thought it was worth a try...After reading the entire guide, I started a game of dota...1 vs 1...I chose Sven, the Scourge Bane Elemental Atropos was my nemesis...Five minutes into the game, I was happy with Sven, he was killing creeps at a reasonably good rate...Seven minutes, Sven drew first blood with a well timed Storm Bolt to slay the fleeing Atropos...By then, I was level 4...To think, with Lina, my first hero kill would be around level 13 or so...Sven, with his armor boosted by the Toughness Aura was practically playing around with creeps by level 10...the splash damage of the Great Cleave adding agony to the already demoralized creeps...I didn't know that the actual party hadn't begun yet...I hadn't seen the power of God's Strength...It was only at level 16 when I had it maximized, that I decided to try it out...And when I did, instinctively, my reaction was "What the -"...I mean, I had a decent inventory with Satanic, Vladimir's Offering, Power Treads and an Assault Cuirass...Well, these are good, but when I took out Atropos in about four hits, I actually did a double take...By then, I had decided Sven was my man...On a sudden impulse, I decided to take on Roshan...In a few minutes, I discovered that he was totally useless against me...I killed him without a sweat, the lifesteal of my Satanic compensating for any damage he managed to give me...When the game ended at last, I was level 21 and my score was 29-1, the one death owing to a lapse in concentration (or over confidence maybe) when I chased Atropos right into his fountain *chuckles* ...Apart from that, it was a totally satisfying game, and to this day, Sven's my hero...

WHERE DO I START???!!!

2007-08-09T00:37:00.000-07:00

Hmm...the first thing that comes to my mind...why the hell did I decide to create a blog today? Is it because tomorrow's C# and Cryptography exams were little more than a formality? Or is it because I am too bored to do anything else? Or is it because I saw Maya creating one and thought "well, why not?"...Anyway, reasons aside, i've got this underway, so here it is...

Presenting to you...aww, cut out the formal crap...go on, you'll find something there...