Category: Blog

Vacuum Cleaners

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The first house I properly remember living in is a perfectly-sized apartment for a young one and two adults. It’s the house I remember having my first sleepovers in, where we folded out the green sofa we had and my friends and I slept there. It’s where I remember spilling milk on the wall because I accidentally knocked down an entire glass with my right hand, and it’s where I first remember eating my mother’s pizzas. Aside from these memories and more, including a bunk-bed surprise, my first tryst with a vacuum cleaner comes in this house.

We had a vacuum cleaner at all of the houses we lived in when I was younger. Now I’m not sure what brand it was – and whether we had only one vacuum for all those years or not, but I’ll explain whatever I remember of it. Memory is a fabulous thing, but it’s likely that the vacuum cleaner I describe is a blend of two vacuum cleaners we had. The only things I’m certain of is that it was either a Hoover or an Aftron, and it was either red, or silver.

The rest is honestly a whirr. Quite literally, a whirr – the most powerful whirr you’ve heard. Biswa has this lovely segment on the irritating sound that motorbikes make, and my vacuum cleaner hit that frequency and more. It was not possible to live in peace in that household when the vacuum cleaner was on. The size of the house made everything echo so you heard the vacuum whirring about 4 times for 1 whirr. While we moved across the corridor to a new house, I think that was the thing I was looking forward to the most – the fact that there was an extended passageway and multiple rooms made it almost certain that in the hall, the television would be protected from the vacuum cleaner’s engine.

That was not to be.

I disagree with this Physics principle on emotional grounds, but I learned that sound travels fastest in solids. Never was that more true than when one wall separated me from the vacuum cleaner. I was in the hall, watching television, eating food, while the house-help that assisted us with maintenance vacuumed the rooms. But the sound traveled through the walls and pierced my ears like nothing else.

I knew I would love living in India when we moved here and didn’t have a vacuum cleaner. The jadu did all the jadoo and swept away all sound. For years, I lived in silence, yet a clean surrounding at all points. Till I went to live in France for 6 weeks. The vacuum returned, and with it, all the trauma of my childhood. I was really grateful for a small house and a roommate, because I had to vacuum only half the time, and I could stay outside and far away from the sound when vacuuming was being done, but oh man – on the days I vacuumed, how I wished that these things made less sound.

I thought my saga with the vacuum cleaner had come to a close. Till this lockdown happened and I was home alone. Remember how I said we didn’t have a vacuum? Turns out, our vacuum was in hiding all along. My parents told me where it was to make my life easier, and the convenience of everything has made me love cleaning up the house and doing the chores every day. Vacuuming is a joy because you can see dirt disappear. Dust vanishes before your eyes revealing smooth surfaces. I am no longer scared to make a mess because I can vacuum it away.

I’ve learned how to deal with the sound. My solution so far has been to vacuum quick. It’s worked. My ears can tolerate short bursts of this (and the mixer), so I try not to expose myself to it for too much time on any given day.

However, I’ve made another discovery about the vacuum cleaner, a discovery that has changed my life – and is the sole reason I wrote this post.

You see, my assumption about the vacuum cleaner is that it sucked dust up into the unknown; a void where all dust disappeared never to be seen again. This morning, after finishing up my vacuuming I noticed the vacuum felt considerably more heavy than it did at the start of the month. Then I noticed some flaps. Naturally, I opened them. Lo and behold, the vacuum had an interior!

First, I examined the source of my pain, the vacuum’s motor. After which I found the vacuum’s dust bag where I saw a collection of all the dust and hair the vacuum had sucked up over the past month. I gagged.

Turns out, dust isn’t decimated by the vacuum cleaner. It’s collected and stored for us to clean out. For it’s convenience this machine really sucks, I must say. First it makes that horrible sound, then I have to see and clean the dust it collects? We need a vacuum cleaner that instantly burns all the dust it collects and leaves ash or something. Some technology advancements are owed to society after this medical crisis blows over.

That’s been my adventure of the day.

GloPoWriMo 2020: 22/30

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Today’s poem asks me to use a saying from a language other than English, and make that the starting. I picked “The pillow is the best adviser”, a saying in Swedish.

Sleep

When confronted with the unpleasant,
The difficult, the disenchanting,
I put my head on my pillow, and close my eyes, and
Try to drift off for a while,
Amidst tears, and even when I’m upset, I hope
Pray, that I’ll wake up wiser,
Particularly since the pillow is the best adviser.

 

GloPoWriMo 2020: 21/30

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Today’s poem provides a lovely opportunity to look at poems from other languages and create a homophonic translation.

I picked the following verse from the poem, Meteor, which is originally written in Slovak. I wanted to pick a language without a Latin base to make it tougher for me to create  a homophonic translation:

Pripravili sme ti strašnú smrť.
Nechali sme ťa klbčiť sa so šelmami.
Mysleli sme si, že si jednou z nich.
Dovolili sme ti skrížiť
mliečne zuby s ihličkami,
lastúry mäkkých nechtov s pazúrmi.

Here’s my translation

Meteor

Primarily, smells suffocated me,
Not smells to combine with salami,
But smells yes, those smells, shallow and rich,
Drearily smells, they squeeze
Millenniums and ruby, entangled origami,
The story makes nectar seem like blasphemy.

 

Open-Ness

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There are several things I’ve taken up during this lockdown: things I’m finding helpful to give me a sense of routine, as well as mini-goals to look forward to each day to keep busy while being away from University and sitting at home. So far, I’m enjoying all of them. For the most part, each day feels distinct from the last (on occasions I don’t write, the days sort of meld together). I start each day clearly knowing what I’m trying to do through the day, which I find particularly helpful, and I end each day feeling grateful for having the day to spend the way I’ve wanted to – without University pressures or anything of the sort.

I have, however, noticed one thing. Most of this, whether it’s the research I’m working on, or the new skills I’m trying to learn, or even the reading I’m doing – it’s all happening on open-source software systems, or openly accessible sources that are not behind a paywall. Paywalls are prohibitive, and that argument stands, and yes, of course, I could get behind the paywall by paying a fee and breaking it down. However, most of the things I’m enjoying at the moment, including plays and concerts are happening on software that doesn’t contain paywalled content – take Twitch, or YouTube.

This is an incredible thing.

I fully understand neither Twitch or YouTube are fully free, but you get my point. The content I’m accessing is free, and for the majority part, most content is. Select portions of content are behind the paywall.

Now, I’m conservative with the money I spend, so it takes me a while to commit to spending on something, including books and resources. I usually turn to open source stuff anyway, since they’re almost at par with their paid compatriots.

However, the current success of openly accessible things is telling me one thing. After this coronavirus pandemic ends, I’m joining the open-access brigade with more passion and fervour. I understand the economics of things, but I think the open-access model can be made viable if people chip in and actually contribute to things, and financial backers end up backing these open-access things. And opening up access opens up a world to the person creating whatever media is being consumed because more people will consume the good.

Atleast go freemium.

And not barebones freemium.

GloPoWriMo 2020: 20/30

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Today’s prompt is very nice. It asks me to write about a handmade, or a homemade gift I’ve received. I’m grateful to have people who have gifted me some really, really meaningful gifts over the years. This one stands out though:

Cookie Bouquet

Glass stirrers wound tightly with royal blue chart paper and a
Purple ribbon held the sweetest gift I’ve received – a bouquet of
Twelve cookies.
These golden disks of joy wrapped in
Tin foil to preserve freshness,
Forgetting that I was a monster who ate them all at
One go.
The cookies lasted twenty minutes at the end of the day
I was giddy:
Didn’t know if I had won every jackpot,
Every carnival game,
Or if it was just love –
The subsequent nap confirmed it was but,
A sugar rush.

GloPoWriMo 2020: 19/30

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Okay, NaPoWriMo’s prompt today was to do a walking archive: where you go for a walk and gather interesting things from that walk. Owing to the present circumstances with COVID-19, their very helpful suggestion is to walk around the house and pick up interesting things at home. I didn’t want to do that. Instead, I think the idea of a walking archive has made me think about the act of walking itself, and how much I miss the freedom of walking wherever I’d like.

On Strolls

The only walks I take these days are to buy groceries –
Nothing else,
No speed-walking around campus to get from my hostel to the administrative block,
Or to get from one end of the administrative block to the other.
I never ran,
Always speed-walked,
Even at school, as if being late to class would
Be the end of me.
What I wonder today, though, is what
I’ve missed while speed-walking
How many cricket matches I could have caught a glimpse of at The Oval?
How many times my friends in school would have convinced me, in the
hallways,
To bunk Physics – and
I know that after this lockdown ends,
I will take a stroll,
Meander through the streets,
Traipse along the pathways,
Deliberately – so
I never forget what a privilege it is to be able to walk freely without
The threat of illness in the air.

GloPoWriMo 2020: 18/30

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Today’s poem stems from the prompt that asks me to write about life’s simple pleasures. There is a lot that I’m grateful for every single day – especially these days. Being at home for the past month, though, has reminded me of the pleasure that was living and growing up in this bedroom. I’m also very grateful to have an attached bathroom these days, and that forms today’s poem.

Health Faucet

When I was a young boy,
The washroom had a small little sink in addition to a big one –
Far too low for a regular human of any size to reach
I’d always assumed that’s where babies were bathed,
These special sinks to keep them cozy.
I had no idea these were bidets,
Used to clean oneself after the greatest part of the day.

I’ve always used health faucets, so Outbound Trips and America felt strange
Toilet paper always disarmed me,
I felt robbed of my only weapon –
Something one of my friends called a “potty gun”,
Leaving me in splits.

At University, we had two options:
An seat in-built jet-spray and the mug,
My pre-bathroom checklist included flushing,
Checking if the jet spray worked,
And praying.

That’s why returning home felt comfortable –
Not my beanbag,
Not my bed,
But my trusty health faucet, with
It’s 100-pin holed head.

The Theory of Music: A Personal Arc (II)

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In the first part of this personal arc, I basically explored what theory of music had become for me at the time: a personal project – something to set my mind to. I wrote that post in the first week of March, having just completed my ABRSM Grade 5 Music Theory exam – at a point where I didn’t worry too much about the result at all. Truth be told, I frankly didn’t think about the results past that first week. Too much has happened in the world generally, and to me, personally, since. The events of that week, and of that day feel like a blur in my memory, since most of my time went in preparing.

My results came in this morning, and I was elated to discover I had passed.

I was thrilled. Of course, some portion of this joy came out of passing the exam and not having to think about that Grade anymore. A larger portion, however, stemmed out of the fact that I had accomplished these results by self-studying. Mind you, these are not excellent results – I achieved a Pass. However, the satisfaction of seeing my own effort bear fruit and reflect well according to the yardstick to which I prepared is not something I’ve experienced to often before. Large swathes of material have been taught to me, or I’ve been fortunate to have good teachers for. With the ABRSM exam, I had access to the same resources everyone preparing for the examination did: the standard examination content. It felt nice to look at today’s result, and say – hey, I did that!

About 15 minutes in, after telling my parents, I had some time to step away from things and look at these results a little more carefully. Yes, I had done that. I had actually put in the effort to prepare according to the curriculum designed, and actually learn everything I was interested in learning for the exam. It was uncanny, therefore, to think about the role the Universe had played in all of this. What prompted me to look up music theory, when I was at home in December – when I could have chosen any project at all? How great was it that an exam was available in March, giving me precisely the right window of opportunity to prepare? How fortuitous was I to be able to study for that exam – and write it, exactly 7 days before the number of coronavirus cases in India began to rise?

I looked at the results a little differently. They felt blessed – like some conspiracy had worked in my favour, and I felt more grateful – not just for all of this, but for the background I had in classical music that allowed me to tap into a reservoir of knowledge while preparing for the examination. For the network that enabled me to ask my friends doubts where I had them, and for the means to afford the preparatory material and the examination itself.

When I looked beyond the results, I thought about how much this examination gave me. It gave me a chance to study and drive myself toward an objective of mine, and an opportunity to rediscover classical music in a way I had only shallow knowledge of before. I am no expert on theory today, but I loved learning all the information I picked up during the examination, and I’m eager to see how much more I can learn. It rekindled and reactivated a part of my brain I had put to ‘sleep’ mode for 6 years, since Grade 11 and my antics on FL Studio.

Aside from all of this, it got me to think closely about why I gravitated toward theory. Why does theory fascinate me? Why do I enjoy studying theory? Of course, the easy answer lay bare in front of me – these were the only examinations I was confident of preparing for without guidance. Other optional answers also felt easily accessible – that the theory examination is a prerequisite to the practical examinations with the ABRSM at higher grades, and that they help with a holistic understanding of the music we are training to play, and all sorts of things.

My love affair with the theory of music, however, pointed me to something very fundamental about the way I approach things. I thought back to Grade 11, and why I struggled with Physics the first time around. The theoretical foundations we had built in the subject at the IGCSE were toppled on their heads, and with poor guidance, coping with that change felt seismic. I thought back to things like fractions: the easy stuff that people understood in Mathematics because they could envision fractions as practical problems, but I found ridiculously difficult because they felt so abstract. I struggle with videogames that don’t have explanations for actions: which is why I couldn’t play Ratchet & Clank well, ever, but I could play Runescape reasonably okay.

It pointed me to how I prefer understanding and studying things – from the ground-up. Theoretical information somehow feels like it brings a sense of order and stability to the practical. Even if as an afterthought, or an aberration that helps to elucidate a creative passion, the theory underlying artistic license fascinates me because it suggests that things in this world as explicable. That fundamentally appeals to me, and the fact that there is a dynamism to this explanation owing to varying perspectives and schools is something I find most enjoyable.

So yes, I passed my theory of music exam, and the theory of music has become a part of my daily life. Along the way though, I had the chance to think about theories generally – and I liked that very much too.

GloPoWrimo 2020: 17/30

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Today’s napowrimo prompt asks me to write a poem about forgotten technology. This was a tricky one because I’m very fond of technology in general, and old technology in particular.

Typewriter

Clickety-clack,
Clunk,
Zing-zing-zing,
Chik-chik-chik
Clack,
Clunk,
Zing-zing-zing,
All I hear on my chiclet-style keys are
Letters on a word processor –

How I wish,
My blogposts would sing.

To-Read

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It’s now been exactly a month since we were asked to leave campus. In several ways, this has been a month where I’ve been able to do all of the things I’ve envisaged doing with my time, but never been able to do because I’ve consistently been under the impression that I didn’t have the time to do these things. Rather, I didn’t make time for them. Things like learning the guitar – and reaching out to my friends for help with that. Or learning coding, and reaching out to my friends for that too. Writing book reviews and reading books every day too.

A result of the book reviews I’m writing every day now is that I spend a lot of time on Goodreads. Since 2016, Goodreads has been my go-to for several things: book recommendations, making friends,keeping track of my own reading. While I’ve waxed eloquent about how much I love the algorithm because it has introduced me to some great books, today, while uploading my latest review, I saw that the algorithm recommended a book whose plot made me instantly decide not to read it. I decided to look at some of my other current recommendations – and what I noticed was a disturbing trend of some poor recommendations, especially those that stem out of my to-read shelf.

I blamed the algorithm for a few seconds before recognizing that if this was a trend, there’s likely an issue with my to-read shelf that’s leading to these suggestions in the first place. I had about 500 books on there, accumulated largely in the past 6-7 months. Since I’m someone who enjoys a large range of books, in terms of the genres I read and like exploring, I generally add a book to my to-read shelf the minute the blurb looks interesting – without really looking at much else. Glancing through my to-read shelf I realized my mistake instantly. These are too many books whose subjects no longer interest me at all, and books I wonder when I was interested in even, resting on the to-read shelf.

I cleared it all out in 10 clicks.

My to-read shelf now contains 0 books. I’m going to build it from scratch, and actually follow-through on reading the books I add to that to-read shelf. While it’s likely to grow faster than I read books I add to the list, I feel like this will make me genuinely interested in tracking my interests and reading habits over time. I’m going to move books around shelves as well. I’ve created a “Not Now” shelf for books I add to the “To Read” shelf but decide to discard for the time being. That way atleast the algorithm can differentiate recommendations for me.

Only one of those ten clicks made me feel things. That last one. Oh, it was brutal.

It was only when I clicked that final time that it hit me that I had effectively just discarded all the books that I was curious about in the past 5 years – without reviewing them or taking a back up. I felt sad for a few minutes and ate a chocolate bar to overcome that.

I wouldn’t have read those books anyway though, honestly. Not one of my to-read books has “purposefully” made its way to my “read” shelf. It’s happened by accident.

Let’s see what I discover next.

GloPoWriMo 2020: 16/30

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Today’s poem asks me to write over-the-top compliments. I am very capable of these, but I’d like to write a few backhand compliments about group project members. In groups, we invariably let each other down when it comes to projects and submissions. I’ve been a victim of this, but also a cause – particularly in my third-year.

Group Project Member

Dear Group Project Member,
If there is one thing I like about you, it is that I have many things to like about you,
I would love to spend every minute of every day, sitting and chatting about things,
However, I really have to get stuff done.
If you knew how much I thought about you,
I would be very embarrassed.
You’re so independent (I wish the group wasn’t compulsory), and
Charming when you make an effort.
You give me so much to look forward each day – and your
E-mails light up my inbox since I know
That we can get done with our work now.

 

 

Equanimity

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This is a word that’s been floating around a lot in my vocabulary and the literature I read over the past few months. I haven’t actually ventured forth and written down my thoughts about the subject because I didn’t feel like they had formed entirely. I do, however, use this blog as a place to keep track of the way my thoughts progressed, and in a sense, it seemed appropriate to write about this as well.

I’m trying to be more equanimous in accepting reality as it occurs. This is difficult, for there is always a version of things in my head – the way things ought to be. For me, I build off of what I envisage taking place, and where that does not occur, I struggle to cope with that. It places a stress on me that feels inescapable when things anticipated or expected do not take place, and in the past, I have fallen prey to that stress.

It’s impeded relationships with other human beings. My relationship with my own parents, for example, very often, slips into conversation where I begin doling out information on what I believe should be the response to a particular situation – and not as a matter of opinion, but rather as a matter of fact. It feels to stray into the absurd very frequently, when I remove myself from the scene and view it as an outsider.

Learning about equanimity, the word – and the depth of interpretation that arises to the word has injected fresh perspective in my life. At present, all I feel about it is that I mistook the phrase and the attitude to mean surrendering to reality completely. My original understanding of the expression was one of nonchalance, that you stopped trying to impact reality – because you accepted this is the way things were. I can’t accept that because it feels purposeless, and observing things around me without impacting them feels like being a spectator and a participant in the game of Life simultaneously. I can’t do that.

I understand today, however, that equanimity is accepting reality as-is, to fully understand it, and internalize it – so it does not push you to extremes in any decision-making, or activity, or life at large. It doesn’t mean you stop impacting reality, but rather, you do so with heightened awareness about what that reality is.

I don’t have much else to say about it yet. If I do, there may be a part-II.