Snapter ONE - Gordon's Summer

"A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words" they say.
Prof P S Satyanarayana, the ex HOD for BMSCE E&C , would beg to differ. During one of his better lectures, he proved using Information Theory, that this saying is by far an understatement. A Picture is worth more than that. And I could'nt agree more.


A friend suggested that, I do something towards ensuring, that the few readers that my blog plays host to, manage to keep awake through the verbosity that frequents this space. And he also told me, that putting up pictures would make things more lively if not guaranteeing me a record readership. So here goes; a humble attempt at decoding a vision, a photograph.

This one is called Gordon's Summer.

And no, i do not mean the inter-galactic super hero "flash gordon" (even though a "flash" would be very much in place, in an article describing a photograph).

Gyan : The name makes an allusion to Gordon Summers, more popularly known as Sting, and even more so as the voice of "Desert Rose". Gordon Summers was also the vocalist for the Pop sensations "The Police" who have come up with hits like "Roxanne" and "Every breath you take".


About the origin and motive of the photo, this was taken during a trek to the peak of Kudremukh. I knew this sight was Camera - material, as soon as i looked at it. It pays to let your eyes wander, when you're on a trek. Azure blue and Golden yellow - two very appealing colours, give this snap an "oil painting - ish" look. Picasso could'nt have done a better job I'm sure.

But the most important thing about this photograph - It was taken on a 33 year old SLR camera; yup "old is gold" holds good this time around(for people who are lazy enough not to click on the link given,an SLR camera is one where u have to actually wind the film, yourself, after each shot, and the one which looks damn cool to carry around slung across the neck, and the one in which u get to fiddle around with the focal length cylinder at the front, while peering into the viewfinder with a contorted face - the more contorted the face is, the better you are at photography). And before I forget - the reason behind the name : Gordon's Summer. Well it simply reminded me of a pretty popular song "Fields of gold" by Sting aka Gordon Summers. So anyone with an IQ better than that of a 5th grader, should have figured out the connection by now.

Coming to the aesthetics of the snap, its a picture, that to me, symbolizes adventure and the feeling of not knowing what one is about to encounter around the next turn. The golden stretch is a small part of a hillock, with a narrow path spiraling round its conical form. But, on keener observation , and adding a tinge of imagination, it appears to me to be a golden path, that stretches on into the blue heavens, converging into a bend and beyond which we cannot see. Very synonymous to life - we tend to think that we're forever moving towards a bright and distant future, even though we have'nt a clue as to what awaits us the very next instant. Philosophical and cliched i know.. but hey, its an honest idea.

HOPE, I hope!!!

Beacons bright, beacons of light,
In tranquil darkness, stand tall,
As the weary wanderer, drifts along
Into a bright circle, a circle of light.

The crimson shade on the wanderer’s face,
Lights up a lamp deep within,
As he sights an old withered man,
With a wrinkled face and disheveled locks.

He stands against the welcome warmth,
As he slowly peers into the wanderers eyes.
An enchanting song, in a foreign tongue
Escapes the old man’s mirthless lips.

“Welcome to the realm of hope my friend
You are not the first one here,
Neither will you be the last one along,
For the world lacks no sorrow unhealed”

“I’m a trader of sorts, a mystery to some,
I wish to sell you a mirage tonight,
A mirage to sail you through this night,
A picture to heal your ailing heart”.

“Come one come all, to the realm of hope,
For its night and the paths are cruel again,
For the devil jeers at men again,
As the weak and hopeless writhe in pain”

“Let me sell you a mirage tonight,
I charge thee no nickel no bloody dime,
Trust is but my fare to thee,
In a world where gold speaks a brazen tongue”

“To all in pain and the suffering lot,
It’s a call to pierce the shrouding dark,
A call to hold on to splintered wood,
And wisps of light, in the ocean of fear”

“I stand to tell you a precious tale,
Of brighter days and light hearts,
And to make it all an act of faith,
I give thee a gift, not a commodity”.

Prisoner to A World of Ambitions

Had turned my mind and heart away,
Pretending to have forgotten,
The rustic paths where the trees sway,
And the painted sights of Eden.

A gust of wind and a dreamy sky,
Bring back the longing for a far off land,
And makes me wonder ever so why,
Should I be victim, at fate’s hand?

Fetters of the future, bind me here,
Holding me prisoner, when I should have been free.
When I should have been far away from here,
‘midst flowing streams and glad company.

Unfair options in an unfair world,
Arrest my steps, north - ward bound
Where the hills are high and the water’s cold
Where nature still sleeps, safe and sound.

Maybe I’ll go another day,
To the land of gods and golden peaks,
Maybe I’ll get past this worldly fray,
To a place where only the wind speaks.

But forever the lonely wanderer in me,
Shall live and live to see the light,
Streaming through a riddled tree,
Or in gleaming waters, swift and bright.

Engineer of Exams

I was at it again. Sitting, waiting; like I had done all through my four years in BMS. Time seemed to have slowed down to an unbearable, inaudible blip on my Casio watch. Muffled sounds and overlapping frames passed by, without making an imprint on my over stuffed memory.

The protocol was standard. A look at the watch, followed by a sideward gaze at no one in particular, and then at the invigilator. The wait to catch a glimpse of the dreaded sheet of paper seemed to stretch well beyond my threshold. My mind was wandering, as usual ; a feature that I had enforced upon myself, for reasons weird enough to bring out strands of incomprehensibility from others (Its no surprise that I will not bother to explain).

This time, the wait, was different though. It had a sense of finality to it. If all went well, this would be the last time that I would go through this ordeal. But the ironic part of the whole setup was the fact that, it was not the wait, but rather the 3 hours that followed the wait, that actually mattered. A very easily justifiable feeling of underprepared-ness, and the high probability of receiving a nuclear bomb for a question paper, superimposed on the highly inviting prospect of getting done with VTU exams for good, promised to make this a day, a very special one.

As forethought, let me give you an insight into the mind of a VTU student, when he/she is face to face with a question paper that does not look very promising. A quick recollection of the Internal marks held in the subject, followed by an accurate estimate of the bare minimum needed to come through, is arrived at. The student then solemnly pledges every grain of sand owned, to every god he/she can think of. No atheists here, we are all very devoted people; In God We Trust. Silent prayers are muttered in ancient languages for not so ancient purposes. Then, a very quick survey of all the classmates' faces is done, to ensure that everyone shares the same plight. The countenances of toppers are conveniently skipped for the better good of the world. One deep breath and the student dives in.

The artificial clangor of an electric bell startled all my senses to awareness, just as the invigilator realized that her moment of glory had arrived. With a determined look on the face and nimble fingers, she set out to hand over one death warrant each, to every ashen faced warrior in the room. What was the probability that I would not be issued one? well.. zilch. And as fate would have it, 30 seconds later, I found myself staring into the RTS question paper, desperately looking for familiar strings of words, that I could make sense out of. And .. yeah… this is just about the right time when the previous paragraph begins making sense. The question paper was deceptively pleasing. I did not have to think much as to what questions I would be attempting; it seemed my repertoire of RTS concepts fell well below the maximum of 5 questions that could have been answered.

It was time to get down to business. The Cello Pin Point in my hand zig zagged at a frenzied pace, at will. The VTU watermark on every sheet of the paper, was jarring. Pages seemed to disappear in a dizzy sway as the recently stocked contents of my brain, poured out unrestrained. Legibility was a concern, and I tried my best to make every letter look the way it was supposed to. In places where I dint know what to write, I repeated a couple of sentences from the earlier portions of the same answer, and prayed for my paper to be corrected by a maniac suffering from short term amnesia. And before I knew it, I had done the best I could and the cello pen came to a halt on page number 28 of the answer booklet.

The answering phase for me lasted only for about 2 hours and 30 minutes, at the end of which, I had succesfully compiled 4 (hopefully ) full answers to 4 (hopelessly) full questions, underlined everything in the paper that was underline - able, stared out of the window 27 times, and assured myself that If I had screwed up, then so will have my friends. Scant consolation, but we are pretty self – satisfied people here in VTU.

Finally, I gave the answer booklet one final glance, handed it over to the invigilator and walked out a free man. My tryst with the dreaded VTU exams was over. Nothing long or short of an achievement. The gusty winds of VTU had passed me by, on the beautiful streets of BMS. I smiled unwittingly, as a thought crossed my mind “ I’ll live to be an engineer after all “.