I think the most important lessons of engineering are to be learnt outside the class room. Engg more than a humongously large number of subjects each semester has to be about surviving on your own. If you are lucky as I am, you will live in a hostel and there will be no place to run away from all the troubles of life. Conflicts will literally follow you to your room. You will grapple with roommates some of them pleasant and the rest outrightly hostile and at one time or the other even the best will go through a snapping and biting phase.
Everything you own will be at risk of being permanently borrowed and u will be
lucky if u dont loose some stuff or the other each week.
There ain't no mom or dad to run too. You have to stand your ground even if there is the threat of wider conflict.
There is nobody to turn to in case of an illness. You lie in your bed fully miserable with a line or two of consolation from a buddy.
You grapple with impossible deadlines. U meet some and others simply pass by like long over crushes.
This is no joke. This is life.
But this is the whole advantage of engg. The lessons one learns are the lessons of life. For future MBA Grads these are worth their weight in gold. Because there is no easy way to learn these lessons. Tuorials cant help anyone here.
Expeience often comes from previous poor judgement.
Engineering Zindabad
Monday, April 28, 2008
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Down a meandering road
Well this is my memoir finally done. Read it and give me feedback.
Many people at the end of college state that how much they will miss college, friends and wish that there still was time before they passed out. I would like to state that I am GLAD to pass out. While some regret the passing of an era; I celebrate the dawn of another epoch.
As an FE, SE and most desperately as a TE I wanted to write a memoir in the magazine. However I thought a memoir was too hallowed an act for anyone else than a BE to write. I often wondered how would a 4 year long story sound like? Now that I finally sit down to pen down this memoir, words seem to have deserted me.
AIT in my case is a story that nearly never was. With a rather high AIEEE merit I chose to take admission to NIT Warrangal. But blame fate or the Naxals who ambushed the same district the next day, my decision got vetoed by my parents. So I landed up at the gates of AIT flabbergasted by how quickly the best laid plans unravel. Thus began the tale of my FE.
My first year room mates and I were ghazal aficionados. Ghazals used to be belted out from my music player all night long. The music would set the tone for the whole flank.Desperate times need desperate measures. To escape certain not so welcome seniors, we got habituated to sleeping at five in the evening and waking up at two at night to do the journals. Of course as part of an all FEs flank in ground G we were better off than many others. But still.
Here I got nicknamed ’Huzoor’. Though only my flank mates who coined the name can fully explain why but I will try to give a hypothesis. My hostel dress was a rather elaborate kurta-payjamas and after twelve at night I used to roam the flank searching for journals to copy and for 'bakar' sessions. Thanks to an intentionally illegible writing and drawing , I used to distribute work to others on behalf of seniors and never really be the one doing it. My royal style I believe in the end got me named ‘Huzoor’. In fact the name later on became so popular many of my batch mates knew me only by my nickname for a very long time.
It was in my first year also that I became part of the Magazine Board. And it’s the Mag Board that makes the whole AIT experience worth the trouble. Strange how it began though! I nearly didn’t make it to the interviews because the news never reached me.Mag Board has moulded me in many ways by giving me wonderful oppurtunities to pursue what I desired.Even as a BE now, when the old have given way to the new, Mag Board still has a special corner in my heart. And this feeling may last forever. I look at ‘eMAGe’ and I know that a whiff of me shall remain in every following issue.
Engineering is not a degree. It’s an experience. The submissions are “mission impossibles”. Engineering at AIT has been fun to put it mildly. Of course maybe I had too much fun, but then again no regrets. Tragically not all papers are one-night stands. Its only in engineering that one recognizes the importance of a 40. As part of a batch which had a history of mass downs I am proud to say I shared all the experiences. EDC ,T.O.C. and M-III for the AIT Comp batch of 08 probably were the biggest obstacles in the completion of engineering. But the clouds did part and most of us cleared those subjects sooner or later.
Four years of lectures seem so insignificant right now. But there are so many memories. Megha smacking her head against the desk with explosive force during a dozing moment. Anurag Chopra trying to divert a question by saying “This is so easy that even Ankush can explain it. Varun Singh coming to lectures after two weeks and having a doubt within ten minutes. Garima whose voice was enigmatically elusive.Praneet getting up in class to be dangerously frank.Santosh Rathore and his improntu khattes. Chits being passed in class. As for myself I can only hope that people remember me.
Nearly four years have passed since I came to AIT. I look back at the Ashraf of that age and I can’t recognize myself in the mirror. I see a stranger. The loss is perhaps of that elusive thing called innocence. And it is true for each and everyone of us. We lie a little too much, are a bit too cruel and cunning at the edges and are just too self-centered for comfort. Like the mighty Beowolf of the legend I believe we have made a pact with the devil. The only question is will the price that we shall pay worth the pact.
Finally as I end my final article for Srijna,I feel an unexpected tug at my heart. It’s a long association coming to an end. Kudos to Comp Dept for being so wonderful to all of us, ciao Mag Board and a round of cheers to all my friends and everyone else whom I have been unable to name for the lack of space.
There are moments and friends I shall always cherish. While there will be friends who shall remain close fighting a duel with time, others shall drift apart. This is fate. But I hope that whenever I shall come across any batch mates, we shall not eye each other as strangers but embrace each other as long lost friends.
Amen.
Syed Ashraf Husain
B.E. Comp
Many people at the end of college state that how much they will miss college, friends and wish that there still was time before they passed out. I would like to state that I am GLAD to pass out. While some regret the passing of an era; I celebrate the dawn of another epoch.
As an FE, SE and most desperately as a TE I wanted to write a memoir in the magazine. However I thought a memoir was too hallowed an act for anyone else than a BE to write. I often wondered how would a 4 year long story sound like? Now that I finally sit down to pen down this memoir, words seem to have deserted me.
AIT in my case is a story that nearly never was. With a rather high AIEEE merit I chose to take admission to NIT Warrangal. But blame fate or the Naxals who ambushed the same district the next day, my decision got vetoed by my parents. So I landed up at the gates of AIT flabbergasted by how quickly the best laid plans unravel. Thus began the tale of my FE.
My first year room mates and I were ghazal aficionados. Ghazals used to be belted out from my music player all night long. The music would set the tone for the whole flank.Desperate times need desperate measures. To escape certain not so welcome seniors, we got habituated to sleeping at five in the evening and waking up at two at night to do the journals. Of course as part of an all FEs flank in ground G we were better off than many others. But still.
Here I got nicknamed ’Huzoor’. Though only my flank mates who coined the name can fully explain why but I will try to give a hypothesis. My hostel dress was a rather elaborate kurta-payjamas and after twelve at night I used to roam the flank searching for journals to copy and for 'bakar' sessions. Thanks to an intentionally illegible writing and drawing , I used to distribute work to others on behalf of seniors and never really be the one doing it. My royal style I believe in the end got me named ‘Huzoor’. In fact the name later on became so popular many of my batch mates knew me only by my nickname for a very long time.
It was in my first year also that I became part of the Magazine Board. And it’s the Mag Board that makes the whole AIT experience worth the trouble. Strange how it began though! I nearly didn’t make it to the interviews because the news never reached me.Mag Board has moulded me in many ways by giving me wonderful oppurtunities to pursue what I desired.Even as a BE now, when the old have given way to the new, Mag Board still has a special corner in my heart. And this feeling may last forever. I look at ‘eMAGe’ and I know that a whiff of me shall remain in every following issue.
Engineering is not a degree. It’s an experience. The submissions are “mission impossibles”. Engineering at AIT has been fun to put it mildly. Of course maybe I had too much fun, but then again no regrets. Tragically not all papers are one-night stands. Its only in engineering that one recognizes the importance of a 40. As part of a batch which had a history of mass downs I am proud to say I shared all the experiences. EDC ,T.O.C. and M-III for the AIT Comp batch of 08 probably were the biggest obstacles in the completion of engineering. But the clouds did part and most of us cleared those subjects sooner or later.
Four years of lectures seem so insignificant right now. But there are so many memories. Megha smacking her head against the desk with explosive force during a dozing moment. Anurag Chopra trying to divert a question by saying “This is so easy that even Ankush can explain it. Varun Singh coming to lectures after two weeks and having a doubt within ten minutes. Garima whose voice was enigmatically elusive.Praneet getting up in class to be dangerously frank.Santosh Rathore and his improntu khattes. Chits being passed in class. As for myself I can only hope that people remember me.
Nearly four years have passed since I came to AIT. I look back at the Ashraf of that age and I can’t recognize myself in the mirror. I see a stranger. The loss is perhaps of that elusive thing called innocence. And it is true for each and everyone of us. We lie a little too much, are a bit too cruel and cunning at the edges and are just too self-centered for comfort. Like the mighty Beowolf of the legend I believe we have made a pact with the devil. The only question is will the price that we shall pay worth the pact.
Finally as I end my final article for Srijna,I feel an unexpected tug at my heart. It’s a long association coming to an end. Kudos to Comp Dept for being so wonderful to all of us, ciao Mag Board and a round of cheers to all my friends and everyone else whom I have been unable to name for the lack of space.
There are moments and friends I shall always cherish. While there will be friends who shall remain close fighting a duel with time, others shall drift apart. This is fate. But I hope that whenever I shall come across any batch mates, we shall not eye each other as strangers but embrace each other as long lost friends.
Amen.
Syed Ashraf Husain
B.E. Comp
Sunday, April 6, 2008
A very moving tale
A very moving and enjoyable forward. I liked it. Hope you all also do the same.
A girl asked a guy if he thought she was pretty.
He said...NO.
She asked him if he would want to be with her forever
...and he said NO.
She then asked him if she were to leave would he cry, and once again he
replied with a NO.
She had heard enough. As she walked away, tears streaming down her face the
boy stopped her and said..
You're not pretty you're beautiful.
I don't want to be with you forever, I NEED to be with you forever.
And I wouldn't cry if you walked away...I'd die...
Saturday, April 5, 2008
A forced hiatus
Well I have not blogged much in March . The reason is that my computer has gone bonkers. Blue Screens of Death seem to be my best friend
For some strange reason my windows installation keeps on crashing. I would format my comp and it would crash again. Infact on one particularly irritating day I installed windows thrice. One could imagine the irritation.
Anyway it turned out my hqard disc has had bad sectors for some time and maybe the hard disc is the problem. But I have a 160 Gb hard disc and its nearly impossible to do a complete format.
I have changed cables and now I am typing with crossed fingers
For nearly 8 days I just did not feel like jostling with the comp again
Lets see if it works
For some strange reason my windows installation keeps on crashing. I would format my comp and it would crash again. Infact on one particularly irritating day I installed windows thrice. One could imagine the irritation.
Anyway it turned out my hqard disc has had bad sectors for some time and maybe the hard disc is the problem. But I have a 160 Gb hard disc and its nearly impossible to do a complete format.
I have changed cables and now I am typing with crossed fingers
For nearly 8 days I just did not feel like jostling with the comp again
Lets see if it works
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