Sounds From The Dungeon

20H

I put the backpack up in the overhead compartment, but not before retrieving my Shures from the front jacket. I settle into the signature Boring Blue upholstered seat marked 17H and pull out my LocalHost and bring up Ether from idle state. As Ether scans the airwaves for advertised services, I pair the headphones and the LocalHost and start my travel playlist - soothing classical tracks which make me forget that I am sitting in an aluminium tube hurtling through thin air at more than 900 kmph.

Services start popping up on Ether's left pane. Chat and Random Hookups are present aboard this Boeing 747-8 too, just as anywhere else in the world with electricity. Today's Menu and Do More With Us! are at the top of the airline's official service offerings. I have half a mind to whip up and publish a 'How much do you hate us?' fake-official poll but resist the temptation.

I take a peek at what the kid in 17I is up to on his Ether. Chat it is for Mr Green Streaks. Or should I say Mr Spiked?

<spiked>: The blonde serving the left aisle is really hot ^_^

I am equal parts amused and depressed. When I wrote Ether back in the day, of course I had anticipated this. You just can't create a widely used network without opening it up to all kinds of junk. Hugh's Law and all that.

Ether, in essence, is a very simple idea. It's a piece of software to create an ad-hoc, peer-to-peer network and then create services and applications on top of that network. There's no central controlling point. Services live and die as peers aggregate and disperse. The network can be distributed across the globe or localized to a room - it all just depends on how far a packet can travel. Or how far you let it travel. Anyone can create an application and then push it out over the network. If others accept the app and run it on top of Ether, great. If not, a few wasted programmer cycles and network packets. Nothing much.

The first app that I wrote for Ether was Chat. Well actually, I wrote Ether because I wanted Chat. The story goes something like this. It's 2007 and we are munching on some pizzas and hashing out details for a hack fest called.. something, I forget what. Someone suggests it would be nice to have a local chat channel for folks to talk in. Then someone else suggests it would be nicer for folks to participate in ad-hoc polls - like 'This speaker sucks. Agree/Disagree/I am playing FF XIV'. So that's when I bang out version 0.1 of Ether - just to get chat, polls and food orders going at ... that event. Damn, what was the name of that event?! Bar something, I think.

After Bar-something, I flesh out Ether a bit more and send the source files to a bunch of folks who I know would dig this stuff. Before long, much to my amazement and delight, a community of developers and application creators grows around Ether and in a short while, Ether gets ported to pretty much any device which has a CPU and can manage even a limp TCP handshake.

I can't exactly pinpoint the tipping point but, one day Ether is this nerdy thing used by techno-geeks in a (ironically) closed network and the next day, folks are putting Ether on their laptops and PDAs and cellphones and discussing player stats in soccer stadiums and playing Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon in cinema halls and rating the tenderness of the Chef's-special-lobster in an inner-Shanghai restaurant!

"Would you like something to drink, Sir?" she asks. I have to agree with Mr Spiked on this; she really is something. I ask for tomato juice, as always, and return to Ether on my LocalHost. I spot Auctions in the offerings and wonder what would people be selling in here. I click through and a list comes up in a few seconds.

* Barely used travel pillow
* Noise cancelling Sony headphones 
* Seat 20H
* Super Mario Fight

Seat 20H? Click.

Swap seat 20H.
Aisle seat. Miss World 2006 in the adjacent seat. ;-)

Hurry, bidding ends when plane leaves the gate!

As the safety announcement starts, I wonder if she's in on the auction.

cellar | 13 comments | permalink | 15.09.2007 20:15 SGT

Research, 2020.

"Do you have any results yet?"

"I have lots of results. I just don't understand them yet. There are some very tricky interactions going on here and I've got nothing that ties them together."

"Since when have you been looking at this?"

"Around seven months now."

"And you haven't found any natural explanation for it in all this time."

"Sadly, yes."

"Hmm. Have you considered the possibility that there isn't any natural explanation? Let's look at these interactions you speak of."

"Yes, this topology couldn't have come about just like that. It is clearly indicative of design. You, Deepak, have come up against something that can only be explained by querying the mind and purpose of the designer!"

"Umm.. by design. That explains everything, I suppose."

"Of course it does! That's your conclusion - by design - and I want the manuscript by this Friday."

"Okay, if you say so."

---

Update: I came across this quote today:

(picture from...)

cellar | 0 comments | permalink | 19.07.2006 19:24 SGT

Tiger, Tiger, Burning Bright

When you come face to face with a yellow, furry, striped, 200 kg heavy beast, coming out of the very 7-11 that you were heading for, your first impulse is to try and wake up. When you find that you can't do that (since you are already awake), your second impulse is to try and attribute the sight before you to that extra shot of Sambuca that you really shouldn't have had the previous night; and thus dismiss it as figment of your imagination.

Unfortunately, when a tiger is seeing you in the eye with a look that says, 'Hello breakfast!', you don't want to do the dismissing thing. You want to run. Run as fast as possible!

So you run.

But as the still slightly rational lobes in your brain had anticipated, tigers can do that too. Much better than you, in fact! So as you run on the streets, crowds splitting ahead of you (not for you; for your feral pursuer), you realize that this level, open ground is the tiger's territory and you have no hopes of escaping it on this turf. You need to find a different ground, a pitch where you hold the advantage. Surely, the concrete jungle must offer such a place?

So you dart into the next building that comes along. It's a very tall, steel and glass affair. A skyscraper: that ultimate symbol of man's concrete jungle. You look behind you. The tiger is not as clueless as you thought; it is slowly negotiating the revolving door. The automated revolving door. Damn automation!

You have a few seconds to make your next move and gain higher ground. Literally, and with luck, figuratively.

You look around the lobby, trying to find an avenue for escape. There's a four feet high mahogany reception desk hosting a couple of terror-stricken faces behind it. Not much protection from a predator such as yours. There are a few chairs and a couch on your left. There's a small waterfall off to your right; you wish the tiger would stop for a drink.

Your eyes fall on the bank of elevators on the far right just as you hear claws screeching on glass behind you. That's your turf! You race towards the first one which is thankfully open. As you get closer, the elevator's doors start closing. You hope you can squeeze through in time. You also hope that the growls following you cannot.

You make it through! You turn around and place eyes on your pursuer through the eight inches now separating the elevator doors. The tiger lunges at you. It misses the gap and hits the doors.

You watch it fall down at the elevator's entrance. It looks up at you through the closing doors.

A paw slips in through the gap. The doors, encountering the paw, open helpfully.

Damn automation!

cellar | 3 comments | permalink | 15.11.2005 20:14 SGT

The Art of Deception

"Good evening! Thank you for calling Jet. This is Maya; how may I help you?"
"I need a ticket to Bangalore on the 18th, Ms. Maya."
Maya: "May I know your good name, Sir?"
"I am Ajay Kumar, Maya."
Maya: "Thank you, Mr. Ajay. Would you be travelling Business or Economy class, Sir?"
Ajay: "Business class, please."
Maya: "Thank you. Please be on the line Sir while the system retrieves information."
Ajay: "No problem. Say Maya, would you happen to be Maharashtrian?"
Maya: "Why, yes! You are quite perceptive, Sir!"
Ajay: "I can always pick out accents; especially the Marathi accent."
Maya: "I am sure you can, Sir."
Ajay: "Marathi girls are the sweetest sounding."
Maya: "I can't disagree, Sir."
Ajay: "And they are also the prettiest looking; as I am sure you are too!"
Maya: "Ah! While this is truly flattering Sir, I am afraid that under the Robots and Robotic Personas Act of 2018, I am required to inform you that I am just a voice response system!"
Ajay: "Oh! Umm.. I hope this isn't being recorded..."
Maya: "You wish, Sir!"

cellar | 7 comments | permalink | 25.06.2005 17:51 SGT

Sleepy Head

Yesterday was a long day for me and when I say long, I mean 24 hours or more. So I wasn't surprised that sleep hit me the moment I hit the bed. I slept soundly for long hours till I was woken by a strange feeling in my chest. The room felt terribly cold and my lungs were tightening up into coiled bags. I was sleeping on my side with my right hand trapped under my body; the hand had gone numb. I rolled over to free my hand and tried to wish away the uneasiness in my chest. Eventually, sleep got the better of me and I dozed off again.

I must have slept for an hour or so before I became aware of the same sensations. My lungs were constricting again, and my hand was numb. The left hand this time; it was wedged below my head - a proxy pillow. I tried to lift my head to free it but I found myself pinned down. I felt tied, glued and nailed to the bed, with not an inch of myself free to move.

And then, the shaking started. My legs started shivering first, gentle tremors to begin with but gaining energy quickly. The ripples then moved up my body - as slow as a herd of snails and as quickly as a charging school of piranha. In an agonizingly slow stretch of time, I could feel each and every part of my body, one by one, being caught in this torrent. And in an instant shorter than an electron transition, my whole body was rocking uncontrollably.

If panic hadn't already seized me yet, it certainly did at that point in time. I forced my eyes open. Through the dull haze of the morning light, I could make out the door. It was closed. I tried to scream to summon help from the other side. But no sound came from my throat; if it had, my seizure stricken mouth would have muffled it to an inaudible moan.

I had to break out of this! With all the will power I could muster, I tried to lift my left leg. It came off a couple of inches. And then more. I raised it to about a foot above the bed and looked at it - to see and confirm that it was actually in air. It was.

From below the blanket peeked out the long foot that I have trouble buying shoes for, in the grey trousers that I had bought in Bangalore. As I looked at my leg, it was some seconds before the meaning of what I was seeing hit me - I was still in control! And the instant that thought sprung in my head, the shaking stopped.

I should have felt elated or thankful or at least relieved. I don't remember what my feelings were - I was so completely drained that I immediately fell asleep again. It was a few hours before I woke up again. The early morning haze had gone - the sun was high up and the room was as bright as on any summer afternoon. The air conditioner was in high gear, fighting a valiant battle against the heat pouring in from the glass window.

I got up and out of bed. As I stood up, I looked down at my left leg. No grey trousers, no trousers whatsoever - just a pair of shorts.

cellar | 3 comments | permalink | 05.05.2004 16:16 SGT

Ephemeral

In this season of intermittent showers, an overcast sky in the afternoon is a welcome respite from the equatorial Sun. There's a new energy in the surroundings and you can see it on the animated faces of people in conversation, hear it in the merry whistle from the hawker peddling odds and ends and feel it in the wind blowing in from the sea.

The two girls at the B19 stop weren't immune to this energy. Dressed in their pretty white school uniforms, their lively chatter brought a sense of cheer to the otherwise desolate bus stop. They had a glossy magazine with them, 'Teen' or some such name, and were oohing and aahing over something; the new boy-band's photos?

This route doesn't see much traffic since there's not much of development along the road. The few vehicles that do take the road zip along merrily, speed limits ignored in the pleasure of cruising along the clear road in fine weather.

The girls were waiting for the 200, the only bus to ply on that route. It's an infrequent service, but the girls didn't show any signs of impatience. They kept each other good company, the many details of their young lives providing enough fodder for banter. Presently, the bus came in view. One of the girls looked up, waved at the driver to stop, and went back to the magazine. As the bus approached, the girls started tugging at the magazine, each wanting to keep it. Pictures of handsome young men do cast a spell on girls.

Something fell out of one of the girl's handbag. A folded piece of paper. She kneeled down on a leg to pick it up. A gentle waft blew it a few feet away on to the road. Her friend giggled. "Is that Eric's letter?", she asked. The blushing girl looked up at her, nodded and reached over onto the road to retrieve that letter which was still flirting with the wind.

The bus stopped too late, the tyre was too heavy, the blood on the road was too much.

cellar | 4 comments | permalink | 06.03.2004 07:52 SGT

Atoms

These are some of the short movies that I have enjoyed at atomFilms. I'll update this post as and when I come across new gems. Click to watch!

• Passengers
• Enchanted
• 4 A.M. Open All Night
• 008
• Repossessed
• Hearts & Hammers
• Uncle
• Stalker Guilt Syndrome
• No Regrets
• Cousin
• An Interview with Spike Jonze
• In God We Trust
• White Bits
• Bad Luck
• Anna Stalked
• The Critic
• Blind Date
• Queen For a Day

cellar | 0 comments | permalink | 18.02.2004 15:24 SGT

It's not often that you die

Writing is something special for me. The ability to mould ideas of immense profundity into a stream of words on a two-dimensional canvas is something that holds me in awe.

I've always wanted to write, write the kind of words that create that magic.

Call it laziness, lack of creativity, or an unfortunate combination of variables, but I never could finish writing what I began.

Novels, novellas are out of the question. Even short-stories remained climaxless for long periods of time before I discarded them.

So I've decided to cut that length down. Write really short stories. Micro stories if you like.

What follows is my first complete story! It was 5 am when the idea came to me in bed. I resisted the thought and struggled to sleep (I have an early morning meeting!) but resistance was futile. It's 6 am now as I upload this story.

As always, nah - more so than ever - tell me what you think.

It's not often that you die. So when I did, I was intent on making the most of it. I didn't want to miss out on anything, not a moment. Now that I saw what this was all about, I wasn't going to make the same mistakes as life. Death was going to be different.

It's funny how being on the outside gives you a better perspective of things on the inside. Sort of like using satellites thousands of miles away to study the soil that you are standing on. It makes perfect sense though, once you get the imagery - once you move outside.

All through life you wonder what could have been, wonder about the road not taken. You live out the days thinking of all that you could have done. The chances that you lost, the opportunities you missed, the risks you took that ran afoul, the moments that you were denied. You think of where you came from - you think of where you are heading to. You think of where others came from and where others are heading to.

But you fail to understand life for what it really is. An appreciation of existence. The start and end points are irrelevant; it's the journey that counts. And being on the outside gave me the ability to see that truth.

So I was determined not to take the same road in death. I was going to enjoy the journey and not bother about the when, the how and the where of the destination. I felt enlightened and I was going to make full use of that awareness.

As I sat back, soaking in the feeling of completeness, I looked around me and saw what I did for most of my life. Misguided souls, weary and confused, constantly judging their surroundings - evaluating their own standing in the scheme of things. It was clear to me by their furtive glances, their unsure actions that they hadn't yet grasped the meaning of existence. I wondered whether I was in some sense better than them; someone unique who could see the truth for what it was. Why hadn't they seen the light as I had? That question, unfortunately, was left unanswered for I saw another light of my own.

It's not often that you die.

cellar | 6 comments | permalink | 11.12.2003 19:02 SGT

Whose Sounds Are These?

99% of you reading this already know me, so just skip this.

I mean it! There's nothing new for you here!

Oh well, read on.

The other 1% - how in the world did you land up here?! Wait, don't tell me. I know - it must be that chap named Google.

Now since you've not made a quick exit and have taken the time to explore more of these pages, I'll reward you with an account of the person whose words bring these empty pages to life. (I have delusions of being a writer extraordinaire.)

Born in February, 1982. The Asian Games were to be held that year and Appu (the elephant), the Games' mascot had caught the nation's imagination. Being on the chubby side, someone thought I looked like the fellow and so I was named Appu .

Deepak - that's the name I chose when my parents realized that Appu wouldn't do as a real name and offered me a choice between Nitesh and Deepak. My older siblings are Hitesh and Jyoti. For those who don't get it, leave now, you won't get most of what is on this site.

That account of my naming might be entirely fictitious, but I choose to believe it.

Lived most of my life in Hyderabad studying in a school where the only challenge was to avoid the PT instructor's cane. Being a lit stud and acads topper in that school, I had these delusions of being smart, intelligent, etc. and decided to give a shot at the JEE.

This page pretty accurately describes what the JEE is.

(Note: The following joke is not racist and is, in fact, Kushwant Singh approved.)

I think a sardar evaluated my answer scripts and seeing another (Deepak Sarda) of his ilk, decided to let me through to the IITs. It was an attempt at increasing their perceived collective IQ. Who cares even if it was an attempt at world domination, I was in IIT Madras.

Four years of lazing around, making great friends, watching OAT movies, paining profs, hating mess food, bunking classes, shooing monkeys, struggling with Aero, servicing the Kinetic, cogging assignments, learning Linux, eating at Quark, listening to rock, playing Quake, philosophizing, waiting for Saarang, waiting to go home, extracting treats, exploring the jungle, discussing Anshul's Mallu-girl fetish, getting high, not sleeping in Saarang, trying to score with girls, watching FRIENDS, Shakes and Creams, pulling each other's legs, eating at Patisserie, catching movies on Mount Road, getting ripped at treats, Besant Nagar beach, and trying to preserve sanity would summarize my stay at that place called Ganga Hostel, IIT Madras.

This wholesome experience also gave me delusions that I had the ability to convince people to fund me for a Master's degree.

Turns out, this time the delusions were actually true.

So currently I am in Singapore, doing my Master's in something I am yet to figure out. Keep watching this blog for updates on that.

“But, my dear chap,” you say, “where's the Dungeon?”

I had this computer in my hostel room which I christened 'The Dungeon'. I don't know why I named it so but there are indications that it was due to a frog eating a flapping butterfly somewhere on the other side of the world. The machine served me well for 3 years and is still going strong. My brother uses it now but he's changed its name. It's now called Tehkhana.

I bought a laptop here in Singapore and named it 'Dungeon'. (I am brimming with creative ideas). And since most of my posts to the blog happen on this baby... I am really questioning your intelligence now. ;-)

Update: (Sep 2005) How the years fly! I finished the Master's and then worked for an year in a field that was completely alien to me but very relevant to my MS studies. The conflict was too much and so now I am in a field that is neither too alien nor too relevant to my years of schooling. Oh yes, I am still in Singapore.

cellar | 6 comments | permalink | 16.11.2003 18:18 SGT