Tartan Tales from the Pitts

18

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Fri, 16 May 2008 03:00:00 +0000

A number of significance in many parts of the world. A lucky number to some. A number of nobility. Eighteen can be seen in many ways, but to me, after two years, I see it in a different light. To me, it is much more than a number. An identity. A phase of life. A degree. A group of people. Friends. Memories. All associated with the number 18. It all began in the Fall of 2006....

Strangers we once were, all from different walks of life, with different experiences to bring to the table. Right from day one, life was a journey of twists and turns. Of late nights and early mornings. Of impressions, and arguments. Of courtships and heartbreaks. Of failures, and successes.

The many long days and nights in this place showed us a lot. We ran businesses, drove them to the ground, caused world harm, and then made strong profits. We allocated memories, and connected to the Internet. We designed routers. We analyzed networks. We made hardware talk to software. We designed protocols. We studied the world out there. We created things for the world to use, and discovered things about us in the process.

But that's not all this was about. It was about explorations, and discovery. Two years, locked in books and the computer is not even close to what this was about. It was about bonding, and experiences. A year of struggle was brought to a halt by a summer of supreme fun. We resumed here with a new perspective, and the world seemed to warm to our new sense of enthusiasm.

But now its coming to an end. A close. A finale. We came here to be graduates. We got something else with the deal. A treasure. One so vast, that nothing can take it away. Two years, with the 18s. Here's to us!

A journey takes a lifetime
every single day goes by
we're on a trip with no time
to rest before we're old and die
and our life is like a river
is like river of no return

Memories

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Sun, 30 Mar 2008 05:24:00 +0000

"Every day, a page turned down; every night, a lonesome sound,
Like a freight train rollin' through my dreams:
Every mile, a memory."
-Dierks Bentley

With every beginning, there comes an end. For some it comes earlier than others. These last few weeks have seen a chapter close in the story here in the Tartan World. About one-third of my class survived the tortuous, as well as many fun times here, to enable an early escape, somewhat unscathed with something we all came here to achieve, their Master's degree. First, let me congratulate them on this accomplishment.
[Edit: The rest of us hope to be done by May. ]

Of course, we have never been a bunch to shy away from extracting humor from a situation. So as the graduates prepared to leave, we all gathered together to talk about memories, and first impressions. We spoke about times past, and times yet to come. We spoke about connections, and things we will never forget. And all this while, we spoke about friendship.

Nearly two years together, and a bond formed between everyone. The bond may have been stronger with some than it was with others, but it ran through like a twine that connected each one of us. There are still many things that we can claim to be exclusive to us here at the INI.

There were many highlights of these 2 evenings that we have had so far. Stories narrated about everyone present. Recollections made, jokes cracked. In the end, I have to finish with my most hearty congratulations to P and S for taking the next step in their lives. They have come through here, and will leave INI with not only their Master's but something that, I am sure, will be much much more important later in life.

Its in the air...

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Sun, 23 Mar 2008 01:58:00 +0000

Walking home from school last night, passed a normally ordinary bus stop. The bus stop, a lifeline on campus, is the starting and terminating point of the airport shuttle. And for students, nothing has more meaning than a way to get home. :-)

Last night, however, was different. Festivity rang through the atmosphere. Was it because of the day? A festival of colors in India, a holy weekend here. Or was it just a special night for a few special people? Whatever it was, it was beautiful.

A bus stop with satin cushions on the bench. A small table with a tea-pot and a tea cup. The walls of the stop covered with paintings, and the curtains drawn back.

A charming sight.

(Extra)Ordinary People

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Tue, 11 Mar 2008 04:33:00 +0000

He always thought there was something fishy about them. The two years of intense work that they seem to put in. The fruits they bear may be ripe, but to an outsider it always seems to be short lived. Yet, his biases were always strong, and to him, the job of management should be earned not handed over to some infants of the corporate world.

That was before he knew people who were on that side of the fence. His side always seemed like the "right" place. Many friends, however, saw otherwise, and walked the bridge into that part of the world.

Thats when he got exposed to what that world really was. The effervescent and confused souls that they were, they now give the impression of being composed and well thought out. What impressed him most was the way they could pick up on any topic that came up, and glibly carry on a conversation about as if it was their pet topic and they nursed it right from inception.

It doesn't stop there. He had never seen such attentiveness, and sense of drive. His world was full of aimlessness, and lack of direction.

But then, they really aren't ordinary people.

The Journey

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Thu, 14 Feb 2008 04:45:00 +0000

It has been a long walk so far. For many months he had trekked through uncharted territory. He walked on without looking up. There was nothing to distract him as he plowed through the thick. The going was getting tough, however. There was need for a booster.

The booster came in way of short bursts. Small adventures that make the journey memorable. As he approached a clearing, he decided to take a short break, to rest his weary legs. His mind wandered...

Not too long ago, he came across a tribe in the jungle. These people were always lively and jovial, yet they valued their secrecy. He stayed with them for a while, and learned of a new outlook on life. Thats probably where he could begin to see the edge of the forest, or at least, he thought it was the edge.

With his new found zest for life, he did not hesitate to take up the daunting. Stranded at the banks of a river, he rode across the white water. Stuck at the apex of a mountain, he parachuted back to earth. When some new path appeared before him, he didn't hesitate to explore.

But time marched on. He had to leave the tribe.

He walked on, alone. Occasionally he was accompanied by an earlier acquaintance. That made the journey more pleasing, and interesting, as they would lapse in conversations as they enjoyed the fruit of some of the bushes they came across. It also involved learning experiences, where he saw the world through another's eyes, and perspectives grew again.

He still remembers the day he came across the ruins. It was a city, an archaeological beauty, and by a twist of irony, they were the ruins of a ruin. A small city built around an excavation of the large bodied ancestors of the planet. One of the buildings also had fragments of imagination inked by people from a time long ago. The vivid coloring impressed his weary eyes.

He awoke to the sound of fanfare. Trumpets, tubas, saxophones blared all around him. Was it over? Had he gone through? As he stirred, he realized that it had only been part of the dream. He shook his head and got up, ready to walk on.

Thats when he saw it. A flash of brass disappeared before him. It wasn't over yet, but not much more remained.

Writing

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Fri, 18 Jan 2008 02:21:00 +0000

It began with pictures. Pictures became symbols. Symbols evolved. The evolution caused a spark. The spark of creativity. Creativity unleashed the mind, and that's when it got lost in the world of imagination. The jungle of imagination is a funny place. When you try to find your way there, you invariably land up at the harbor of truth and reality, showing you the vast oceans that lay untouched as everything constantly changes. Unconsciously, however, the mind will move towards the labyrinth that is wild and untamed.

Many instruments exist for recording such journeys. It began with carvings, and then moved to stone. Soon, however, with some portability, it moved towards ink, and carbon. Today, its more just a bunch of dots lighting up in strange ways depending on the way some electrons dance.

There was a time when I needed to hold something in hand whenever I wanted to enter the land where rules can be broken. It was my key, without which everything would be boring and mundane. With time, all I needed was the strangely laid out board with symbols. Button presses would emit a surge of feelings, warped in a web of words.

I tried the pen again few days ago. Its amazing how much we rely on something from a machine. It felt strange to grip something and move the hand in a way that would create symbols that could be read by the eye, and deciphered. That day, however, I struggled to read my own handwriting. Pencils are better though. They help in clear thoughts, and give you the freedom to make mistakes.

But to think, I need to type.

Silver

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Sat, 29 Dec 2007 23:44:00 +0000

Lustrous white, ductile, malleable metallic element, with the highest thermal and electrical conductivity of the metals.

Precious in terms of jewelry and other ornaments.

The orginal driver of photography.

Marks second place.

Speech, in comparison with silence.

Talks about good in a bad situation.

Poetic reference to the movies.

Safe, when it comes to cars.

Celebrates twenty-five.

Survive

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Fri, 21 Dec 2007 23:27:00 +0000

First I was afraid
I was petrified
Kept thinking I could never live
with this load on my mind.
But I spent so many nights
thinking how to prove them wrong
I grew strong
I learned how to move it on

It took all the strength I had
not to fall apart
kept trying hard to mend
the pieces of the broken math
and I spent oh so many nights
just wondering why, myself

Now I hold my head up high
and you see me
somebody new

I survived
Yes I survived.

Retirement

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Wed, 21 Nov 2007 03:16:00 +0000

Six years of service. Long time for anyone in his field. I remember him right from the beginning where he was new in a world of antiquated silver based people. He would be very careful about whom he would mix with, when, and where he would come out. Carefully ensconced away in his protective cover, he was especially wary of the monsoons.

Time passed on, and he found himself getting to be popular. He was the one people would look for at an occasion. Without him, the show just could not go on. The cynosure of any event, yet still open only to his first friend. Slowly, I did make his acquaintence. Thats when he showed off his magical charm. Yet, his true magic blossomed only rarely.

Three years ago, we went to watch the lunar eclipse. A tiring night (or morning, depending on how you look at it), sitting in a field with a tripod, my sister and him, we patiently watched as the moon turned orange, then red, and then slowly, the white returned. I rememeber, my neighbor thought we were crazy that night, sitting outside while the mosquitoes had their field day.

Then we parted ways. For one year and a few months, cities separated us.

A chance visit, and he shifted locations. Now we were inseparable. We saw all kinds of places. All around the garden city, and right across the house I stayed in. Excessive use, and he was the star of every party, of every gathering, and every celebration. Nothing could stop him, or me, now.

Feb, 2006 was a sad month, however. It rarely happens. He was unfortunate to have it. A slight misalignment had him out of use for some time. He tried to recover, and recuperate, but the stress of trying was enough to make it worse. Finally, in May, he agreed to a visit to the clinic. A week with the nurse, and he was in ship shape condition again.

Together we travelled across the oceans, as we reached here to talk abt the Tartan Tales. The recovery wasnt complete, however. He was getting old. The energy would drain from him, and he would take a long time to regain his strength before he could move about again. Soon, all he did was rest. Occasionally, however, he would make his presence felt with the sparkle in his eye.

Today, however, he feels it is time to announce his retirement.

A replacement for him will be very hard to find.

Humbling Experience

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Sat, 27 Oct 2007 22:55:00 +0000

This humbling experience has broughten me bliss
So many things are just best left unsaid

And will you not know what to say
To whatever gets your heart someday

He grew up looking at the world in awe. Inspired by its actions, and the freshness of it all. He took it all as a challenge, and rose on the surfboard of life, as the waves got larger. The water got deeper, and the waves lashed harder, but confidently he strode on; never looking back.

Soon, the pools turned into the sea, and the sea into oceans. The confidence from successes in smaller environments drove him on. Slowly, the waters turned harsh, storms began brewing, and the new hostile territories encompassed him. He fought for balance, and somehow clung on.

The tropical storms upgraded themselves, and the environment launched at him. Thats where he lost balance. In the water, he discovered the skill of swimming, not as fast paced as his original mode of transport, but it kept him moving nontheless. To move was the only way to survive in these waters. The body had to stay warm agains the ice cold of the water.

The time has come, however, to get back on the board. The waters may be hostile, but to succumb is not an option. A short reprieve from the onslaught and he will back on his feet again, having adapted to this new world.

The Big Apple

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Sun, 07 Oct 2007 01:12:00 +0000

A city with purpose; With focus. The most populous city in the country, yet doesnt feel that way. A casual walk in the hustle of life early Friday morning. A morning stroll through the heart of the working district, and the suited armies marched on, unblinkingly, with their venti cups of Starbucks firmly grasped in their hands. No looking around, its the walk of a soldier, ready to take on the world for the day.

A city of routine. As I sat sipping my coffee, working on some papers, a few routines were spotted. Every hour on the half hour, sort of like the news, Starbucks would fill up with customers trying to get their caffeine kicks. The caffeine that would keep them ticking through the day. Fifteen minutes later, the coffee drinkers are gone, and the smokers emerge. Every hour, three fourths past the hour, and there you have people puffing away. The same people.

And then it was meeting time.

Meetings, done, it was time to go uptown a bit. 95th Street. Check in to, as my friend AV called it repeatedly, a dump. Not bad for the price we were paying to be staying in Manhattan, however. A short rest, and off we were to midtown. So that I could do the "touristy things."

Times square, union square, East Side.

And then a stroll.

Next morning, the mecca of the city, the Apple Store. :D Jam packed, but a nice experience.

So hows is the city? A city of drive, of goals. A city that reminded me of a place. A city with a life, and it truly never sleeps. Its a great city!

Competition

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Mon, 17 Sep 2007 02:14:00 +0000

Everywhere you look, everything you do, its always there. In a dog eat dog world, its the fighters who get ahead. This is true in most aspects of life, but there are some places you would not expect this to creep into. Some things should just be taken as is, and let go. Not everyone sees life that way, however.

The game of one-upmanship is something that seems to lie in their blood. Whatever you have done, they have done better. Be it a trip, an experience, or anything at all. You share something with a friend, in the spirit of sharing, least expecting their minds to be racing ahead to see how they can outdo you. How can a conversation not be about them? Its just not possible. Of course, if you try to reciprocate their actions the same way they treat you, silence ensues. Awkward times.

Competition, is the world summarized in
Just one word, and you know what I mean,
Friends competing with friends
Will it ever end
I'm losing all of my patience,
I need a way out, and soon

Salsa!

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Sat, 08 Sep 2007 02:40:00 +0000

He wouldn't have done it alone. He may not have done it with most of his friends either. There's just something, however, that makes him want to try to learn. So he went with a friend, one he could trust.

A free salsa lesson. To find a rhythm within him, and use that to sway, and lead. A challenge it would be. Especially in a room with just one familiar face.

But he survived. Met new people. Different people. And he had fun.

Shining

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Sun, 19 Aug 2007 13:54:00 +0000

A country whose media is obsessed with the west. A country that loves to compare itself with the new world. But does it merit the comparison? Is it fair to compare a fledgling country, 60 years old, with something that has seen over two centuries since its birth?

Sure, my views would be biased by the city life that I've lived here. Arguably it is the biggest megalopolis in the country. Maybe that view is biased enough for it not to translate to the rest of the country? Maybe its the spark that will ignite the flames in the rest of the country.

I've spent one year out of India. Here for a short trip, I feel like comparing the life I've seen out and the life I've lived in for most of my life. Don't ask me why. It just happens as I step out, and see the liveliness that is home.

The biggest thing u notice here is telephony. Mobile phones are practically omnipresent. Everyone has one. The ring tones are strong enough evidence of that. As my plane touch tarmac at the Sahar... sorry CST, i could hear rings of all kinds. It brings a smile to the face...... For a country that is developing its technological front, the cost of telephony is remarkable. Compare it with everyone's favourite comparison... and u see that incoming calls are free... and calls are at a fraction of what are made elsewhere. Sure, there's no nights and weekends free calling, but at what price is that being touted there? Amazingly high rentals!

Another point to consider.. domestic air travel. This is where i sincerely believe that Indian travellers are king. Pick a flight.. any flight ... and u get food... water.... candy.... maybe a PTV... Flip the coin, and u are lucky if u get peanuts. Is competition so lacking there? I cant imagine costs need to be cut to such an extent that the consumer has to "suffer." Its not like all flights are cheap either.

Public transport. Now that is amazing here. True, its typical to my city... but then compare it with something like SFO, where people keep talking about the BART... and u can see how things run here. Clockwork is an understatement. Trains and buses serve millions in a day.... Again, that is probably because there are millions in a city bursting at its seams... and u don't find that in too many other places. Again, i haven't seen NYC... so cant compare there, but I hear its as good. Yes, Indians there say the train system there is "as good."

Behaviour. This is something people talk about a lot. Go there and everyone says the people aren't as friendly to us, that we are still looked down upon, that they don't care to understand us. But does anyone stop to think? Aren't we the visitors? Shouldn't we understand them? No, most of us just go there and sink into our shells. Crouching away in the hope that they don't see us. If they do, then run. So they don't. And then we blame them for not trying. Why should they? They were fine before you got there, and will be even after u leave. The experience that should be gained is yours.. go out there and reach out. That is what they are good at... always ready to mingle with anyone who is there. Its not that we aren't good at it here. In our own country, arguably we are one of the friendliest people around.

So is India Shining?

Emergent Behaviour

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Thu, 16 Aug 2007 01:43:00 +0000

Life has always been about an adventure. An exploration into something new, uncharted. And this last solar revolution has been something completely new. It started with leaving the Island city. Next came an entry to the Bridge Capital. It moved onto the Valley of Heart's Delight, and it brings me back to a sojourn with the Island City, before a return to the City of Bridges.

Nine months by the Bridges, and the number of visits to the bridges? Not more than a handful. This in a city where there are 446 of them. And these visits occured after the first 4 months of the stay in the city. The first trip happened with quite an eclectic crowd, in fact. Slowly things began to move forward. A gang of friends developed. A club of friends persisted. Friends began to appear. Never what one would expect, however. Always something missing. The end of these nine months saw something new. Something that was lacking all the while, and things looked upwards. A new circle was developing.

Three months in the "Valley of Heart's Delight." A completely different ball game all together. Thrown into a new place, with a new set of people, all collected from a large diverse crowd. The explorations finally began. Externally, and internally. New people were met. New things were done. Inhibitions laid low, as experimentation took to new heights. A new person emerged.

Social Networking

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Sat, 14 Jul 2007 17:49:00 +0000

The Internet has changed the way people interact with each other. There used to be days when you would meet your friends everyday, hang out, do stuff. When you moved away, friends grew distant, and sometimes faded away into the darkness of time. New places, meant new friends, new faces, new lives.

These days things are different. Friends, if you want them to be, can be in touch wherever you go. Whenever you need them, they can be reached. The Internet was quite responsible for all this. Childhood friends, continue to grow with you, albeit through the interface of a messenger, or mails. But is this good? It can cause life to be static. Always clinging on to the past, never letting the present into your soul. Thats one way to look at it.

In a world where trust is hard to come by, why should we risk ourselves to exposure to new things. Its dangerous, and usually not very helpful to us. In a world where everyone is closed unless they need to be, how can we let anyone in at all?

This is where social networking on the Internet changes the board a little. With all these sites online to bring like minded people together, or even people who've been long lost, the playing field opens up. Just this past week, I found friends from elementary and middle school from my previous tryst with this country online. What a joy it is to reconnect with the people from those days, if only to see whats become of the world you knew. People change. Grown up in a world where everyone is a doctor or an IT professional, its a welcome change to come across writers, singers, lawyers, therapists and the so called "unconventional proffessional fields."

Networking is turning out to be quite an important aspect of life these days. The person with the most useful contacts usually comes out ahead. In the age of information, the more people you know, the higher chances you get to know of something important.

But whats the cost of all this?

Technologically Challenged

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Sat, 07 Jul 2007 03:13:00 +0000

Coming from an engineering background, one would think that this cant be me. In a field where not knowing the latest can severly dent you, and where the latest changes very often, I suddenly feel very cut off from the world. Ten months cocooned in grad school, where everyone around you has pretty much the same exposure to technology as you, and you are lulled into a false sense of security.

One and half months in the valley, and you realise that your life has been isolated from the rest of this technologically dependent country. Talks of TiVo, Roomba, home servers for all your shows, a mac mini, apple tv, 40 inch computer displays, devices that rebroadcast tv from any region to your laptop, and many such things. This is the country where technology is because it can be, not because it is useful. Where the newest means that something a little old loses favour instantly.

Ordinarily this is not something that would be of any importance. Even now its not something that keeps me awake. It is a conversation stopper, however. Out at a barbeque, and everyone talking about their problems with the roomba, or tivo, and all you can do is try to figure out what they are talking about. Sure you can ask, but then you get such stares, it kind of takes the steam out of curiosity.

In the end, it makes you want to learn about this crazily electronic world. That is always a good sign, but the knowledge banks arent particularly helpful, which makes me feel technologically challenged.

Hows Work?

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Thu, 28 Jun 2007 17:07:00 +0000

The standard question these days. Meet anyone you know, and thats the first question that people ask you. Not, "How are you?, but "Hows work?" Its like you have become secondary to the work you are doing. Everywhere you look, all people want to be able to do is to compare their experiences with yours. "Hows your company? Oh yeah. in mine we do this. " Or "My company is awesome, they do this, and that and the other, do you guys also do this?"

Its like a competition. A big ego battle. Isn't it all about the experience too? Your experience? What's the point in the experience, when all you do is sit at your desk and mix with the people you already know. Get out, make new friends, explore the area. The "work" is not all about the company, it also includes the people (thats the real "company"), the places, the real world experiences.

So, hows work?

New Times (2)

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Fri, 15 Jun 2007 15:35:00 +0000

To answer my own question - Yes it does matter. Its just a question of choosing.

The past is just dust, in sands that were blown by the wind of the journey, and lost to eternity.
The now is something different. Something with new surroundings, and new companions.
New stories. New ways of telling them.

That is what this is all about.

New Times

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Tue, 12 Jun 2007 03:07:00 +0000

New city. New places. New faces. New times.
Something stay the same. Sometimes the shackles hold on tight. Sometimes they wont let go.

Old faces. Old people. New characters. New behaviour. Character influences.
One always said that people are known by the company they keep. Who would have guessed, people change based on location and the company around them?

Move across the continent, and boom, a new person emerges.

Stories. Untold, slowly get told. Things unsaid, are spoken. Some things meant to be said, remain unsaid.

New city. New places. New faces. New times.
Does it really matter?

410

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Tue, 01 May 2007 07:49:00 +0000

Three digit numbers abound in this world. Some are used for emergenices, some for information. Some of them can give u train information, others can tell you the status of your cell phone. Such numbers are not what I am gonna talk abt it, however. The three numbers that shook (and are shaking) my world this past semester have a very familiar ring to anybody who's taken a similar course at the tartans, and anywhere in this country.

Four-ten. These simple digits, put together in this fashion have been shaping me since January. Its caused ups and downs, and swings of all kinds. Yes, its also a very good weight loss program for those of you who can handle the stress, the workload and the pressure.

It starts in baby steps. You write a neat little program that tells you who called it. :-) Yeah, I dumbed it down a little, but a week and the tracer is done. That was the warmup.

Its now game time. This is where the buildup begins. Its time to begin the drivers. Start out with the video drivers, so that you can see things on the screen. Move on to the keyboard drivers, so that you can actually write what you want to on the screen. Now to test it, write a sweet little game. Something like pac-man. Nothing fancy. Just a maze, with a mite roaming around and trying to find his way out of the crazy world us crazy programmers dumped him in. This is where the fun began. Silly mistakes became evident, and the pressure began to show. What ifs needed to be answered. Stubborn fool that I am, I decided to continue. It'll be a great experience, and its something that I just wanted to do. With this resolve in mind, I ploughed on to the third project.

P2 they called it. The first group assignment. The task, should we choose to accept it, to write a thread library for a kernel. This thread library would have to be very robust given the kind of test cases we were about to encounter. As the code came to being, our thread library slowly took shape. Things seemed to be going along, with every new bug showing us the way to a brighter and better code. All until one day. (It could have been night, they were all the same to us.) Suddenly something stopped working. Or staretd working sporadically. And thats the toughest part of debugging. If it doesnt work all the time, fine, u can catch the troublemaker. If it works sometimes, and not others, then you are in one big soup, and the bowl just keeps getting deeper. After 3 sleepless nights, of going home at 5-6 am and trying to catch some shut eye, we realised that we were crashing the provided kernel. That wasnt our fault. The course staff, quickly rectified it and "shipped" us a new kernel. This of course, not before my partner, R, and I lost a few kilos, and nearly tore each other's hair out. (Her hair was short then, so couldnt really grab much.) But yes, the pressure and the stress were mounting. We had 4 days to fix our code to work on the new kernel, and were about 2 days behind the rest of the class. At one point I distinctly remember the feelings that rocketed through me with R pacing behind me as I debugged and thinking out loud that she would drop the course if it didnt get fixed. Lets just say that thankfully it did, and with 2 days to go at 3 am with just the two of us sitting in the kitchen of the department we were now able to run all their tests. The smile that R cracked then, was amazing. Something not seen for three weeks, and relief swept over us both, as she dozed off for a bit (trying to do another subjects homework).

Now it was time for the biggie. Time to write our own multi-threaded, pre-emptible kernel. Scary? Oh you have no idea. To add to the boiling pot, this came out in the dreaded mid term week, so we all started one week late, with a checkpoint racing towards us. The sleepless nights began. With it came the raised volumes, and the heated discussions. I cant imagine what either of us (R and I) would have done to the other had we not been friends before we started this course. But neither of us could be blamed, it was just the frustration that kept building up inside. Checkpoint 1 approached, and we moved to the first big step of the kernel. We loaded a program. Sounds simple? Far from it. The night before I worked on the loading, as R prepared for her exams. When I finally got something to happen, I was so elated, I didnt cross check what else had to be done. Wrote some code, and crashed for the night,. Wake up in the morning, and R has some news for me. I forgot to check my latest addition of code, and had created some sort of mess. Some quick fixing, and she managed to recover from that, but we still fell a little short of where we needed to be. I'll never hear the end of that!
With the mess we had for the first checkpoint, we quickly attacked the next one. Spring break saw us work like maniacs, never going home before 5 am, for the first few days. Then we hit something we never thought we would. Success. Something worked. And we were ready for checkpoint 2, ten days ahead of schedule. Things eased up a bit there, and we each caught up with the other courses we had for the semester. (Yes this wasnt our only course!) Sometimes things are just to good to be true. As the d-day approached, we decided to run their tests to see how things worked, and boom! It crashed. Debugging this was one week of pure hell. In all senses. Nothign seemed to work that week. The whole world fell apart at the seams, as we tackled this issue. R, not quite the patient person, went ahead with three different implemntations of the system call. Nothing seemed to work. Tempers were flaring. Yet work progressed parallely. Two things we learnt from that one bug.
1. Never ever copy paste!!
2. Debugging one issue can find so many bugs in so many other places just by re-reading.

That one week will never leave me. It ended with a call from R on a friday afternoon, 7 days since we found the bug. We went out for lunch that day :-)

After that things seemed pretty much under control. And soon enough we had a non-preemtible kernel working. Making it pre-emptible took another week of tweaking, and stupid blunders kept getting caught. This one ended with a jump as all the tests worked in a pre-emptible fashion, and we implemented some of our own cute things. The department rewarded us for our hard work with a "floppy disk seminar." Big 16 inch floppies with cheese and meat, with some soft drinks. :D

Time for the final hurdle. P4. The bootloader. This is what would boot the kernel we wrote, which could then use our thread library, and would use our keyboard and video drivers.. Neat? But yeah, first we had to write the thing. This was a relatively lighter project. (I mean really light). Just make sure to read the documentation properly as you code. That cost us 1 day. R and I could have gone out for dinner with some friends had we done so. Come Sunday afternoon, and we fix the last of the bugs... I'm still reading the spec to see if we missed out on something, when I hear R scream.. and the she calls me over.. and begins jumping... we had booted our kernel. She couldnt contain her joy. And a flood of relief swept over her. I saw who R was again. A person. Not a machine. ;-)

This was a course that redefined my life. Four to five hrs of sleep became the norm. More than that and you'd feel guilty at times, and be made to feel guilty at others. It taught me a lot. I learnt stuff I had never even heard of. I managed to implement some of them with the help of R of course. Towards the end, we had set roles... as we debugged... i became the guy who'd find the problem, and she's fix it. The debugger and the coder.. thats the relationship we had on the field of play... the one off the field, well, not much can stand in the way of friends.

R and I

The course isnt done yet. The exam is yet to come. And so are the grades for our thread library and kernel. So theres still a long way to go... yet, I cant help but say it, there's no way I'd have gotten here without R.

P.S. For more experiences, check out R at Chatterati and V at Rise of the Phoenix.

Lessons Learned....

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Sat, 21 Apr 2007 19:39:00 +0000

Some people never change. Some people say they will, but never try. Some people just stare at u.

Say your lines but do you feel them
Do you mean what you say

Sometimes you wonder, is it you or is it time? They say time changes, but times change too. Is it grabbing on to the past, or the unwillingness to accept the future?

All the world is a stage
And everyone has their part
But how was I to know which way the story'd go

Whatever it is... slowly the lesson begins to dawn. Sometimes you just have to let go. Sometimes things will never be the same again.

Could silence be the answer?

Connections

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Mon, 16 Apr 2007 06:56:00 +0000

Old friends, long lost, suddenly return. A rushing of times past.

New entrants to a circle. A rushing of times now.

An outing. A rushing of times to come.

Tempered Tools

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Sun, 08 Apr 2007 18:29:00 +0000

Like any other tool in life it can make and break things. The way you wield it, and, more importantly, it wields you, is how it drives the direction of things.

Used well, it makes something good even stronger, something weak, strong. Misuse it, and even the strongest of bonds can be broken. Aqua regia pails in the way it dissolves strength.

And then of course, as the molecule splits into two nascent atoms, sometimes there will never be enough turtles.

Comforting times

noreply@blogger.com (zoxcleb) — Sat, 24 Mar 2007 22:52:00 +0000

Its been a while. I missed her. She was always there. To talk to. She always listened. Sometimes it was just silence as I lay beside her and counted the stars. Yet, it was always comforting. Nearly 8 months since I last did that. Managed something similar yesterday. Sure, she wasnt here, so it wasnt nearly the same, but its as close I have got since then.

Finally found a nice serene water body near where I stay. Had seen it a few times, but was unaware as to how I could go and sit or stroll beside her. The lake, Panther Hollow, nestled in the midst of wilderness has its own charm. Greenery all around, an occasional view of some magnificent architecture forcing u to remember the century you are in, and the soft rush of water flowing down into the lake.

And its not uninhabited. Courting ducks, filled with curiosity at the new humans entering their world. They came, they posed, and they swam on, nonchalantly.

I wasnt alone. Had a group of friends. We walked and talked. Aimless banter, and a calm walk. In the slight drizzle.

In today's world, with the hustle and bustle of life, and the mad rush that drives us, that one hour was a wonderful time.