News Magazine -2012 - Chemical Engineering

1|Page
Welcome note …
Another flood of creativity is splashed onto papyrus as the
CEA magazine takes flight yet again.
Sit back, put your feet up. Bring out the coffee and cookies.
Savour the articles as you enjoy your cookies dipped in coffee.
Marvel at the wit of Dr. Narendra Dixit, ponder over the thought
provoking article of Prof. K. Keshava Rao, immerse yourself within all
the articles contributed by the bright young minds around you and
lastly laugh your way to happiness as we end the magazine with
humour. This magazine has it all.
Thank you.
P.S. Thanks to Sumpi Lorence for the hand drawn cover. It is simply
smashing.
P.S.S. Any errors in the magazine are solely my responsibility. I have
tried my best to edit the articles in a short time. Should you find
any grammatical errors, please forgive me.
Editor
(Rajat Desikan)
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
2|Page
CONTENTS
TITLE
AUTHOR
PAGE NO
The Right to Dance
Narendra Dixit
3
Kshetramohan Sahoo
6
K. Keshava Rao
7
What lay beneath…
Anjali Jayakumar
11
Indian classical music and the 'beat
Sagar B
(Article)
Journey
(Poem)
Ishwarchandra “Vidyasagar”
(Article)
science' of the table
(Article)
Photography - A Passion with a reason
Narayana
(Article)
Gift of the Magi
O Henry
(Short story)
(Editor’s choice)
Bhaisahab! Sachin ka chutta hoga?
Saurabh
(Article)
Lighten up – lawyer special!
Sourced from the
(Humour)
internet
(Editor’s choice)
Placements 2011-2012
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
3|Page
The Right to Dance
I notice an interesting trend in our student community. The fraction of
students married is on the rise. I wonder why. The percentage of male students
in our department is quite high. And Aamir Khan has lent his stamp of approval
to what the boys already know so well: if they wait around till they complete
their PhDs, there won’t be any girls left for them to marry! Or is it just that
the stipend has got too fat? Whatever the reason, a consequence has been that
I have had the rare privilege and honour of attending several of the wedding
ceremonies of our students. Each one has been spectacularly different from the
others and yet just as grand and delightful. I tell you here of the one for which
I travelled the farthest. It was a Punjabi wedding in Amritsar, right next to our
border with Pakistan.
I landed in Amritsar in the evening. The wedding was on that night. The
broad road leading out of the airport seemed to match the built of the average
citizen there. I expected to hear “balle balle” everywhere, but to my surprise
the air smelt more of Jagjit Singh. I reached the bride’s home to a very warm
welcome from the family. The bride was away to get her make up on, which I
was told would take at least 5 hours. So I would see her only at the wedding
ceremony later. After sampling delectable homemade goodies, of which there
seemed to be an endless supply, I was escorted to a neighbour’s house. I was to
stay there that night. A wedding in the neighbourhood seemed to mean a
wedding in the family much more there than elsewhere in India.
A few hours still had to pass before we all went to the venue. In those
few hours, I had a chance to interact with the neighbour’s family. They treated
me as more than their own guest. I got a quick tour of their property and then
more offerings of snacks and tea. Soon, it was prayer time for them. The entire
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
4|Page
family assembled in a special room in which the Guru Granth Sahib was kept. I
was invited to join them, which I gladly did. I was given a clean white piece of
cloth to cover my head like the rest. The lady of the household led the rituals.
She was kind enough to explain to me what they did. I learnt that the Sikhs
believe that the book is no different from God. Accordingly, the rituals are all
designed to treat the book as alive with the presence of God. The book was
slowly opened to the page following the one that was read the previous day. The
text on the page was read as the teaching of the day. The prayers ended with a
verse that said something to the effect, “You are the giver and doer. All this is
you. I offer all that I have done today and ever to you.” I couldn’t help notice
how uncannily similar all this was to the beliefs of Hindus.
The bus to ferry us to the venue had arrived. I walked out to notice that
I was heavily under-dressed. Even the two year old sported a jacket over his
diapers! I should have known that this was a Punjabi wedding! The bride’s
mother looked kindly at me and handed me a scarf, which was to distinguish the
bride’s party from the groom’s. We arrived at the venue, a sprawling lawn,
beautifully decked up. I was sure that Shashi Kapoor sang, “Mohabbat bade
kaam ki cheese hai…” on that very lawn. While we waited for the baraat to
arrive, I became friends with one of the bride’s friends. To seal the deal, we
also became friends recently on facebook.
The baraat arrived. I was soon to learn though that arrival has no
relationship with entry. The baraat had arrived, but they were yet to enter the
venue formally, for which they had to overcome barricades set up by the bride’s
sister. Here, the barricade was a ribbon held by two of her cousins. It had to be
cut by the groom for their party to be allowed entry. But he was allowed to use
only those scissors that the bride’s sister possessed. And, of course, she had to
be suitably bribed to get her to part with those scissors! The groom and his
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
5|Page
friends conferred and decided that they should instead simply overpower the
bride’s sister and walk over the fortifications. The bride’s party was no
pushover, however, and an entire battalion instantly assembled from nowhere in
support of the bride’s sister. The reverse of a tug of war ensued. The elders
stood aside and grinned, occasionally cheering their respective sides, yet
knowing fully well that no matter how hard the groom tried, he would be lighter
by more than a few pounds that night. The groom soon paid up, the scissors
were handed over, the ribbon cut, and the entry finally made. The groom’s party
was welcomed warmly by the elders in the bride’s party with gifts and snacks.
The groom slowly made his way to the podium amid dancing and music. This time,
of course, it was all “balle balle”.
Enter the bride. She walked delicately, escorted by her near and dear
ones, and approached the podium. Garlands, rings, etc. were exchanged and the
couple was pronounced man and wife. One by one, guests walked up to greet the
couple. Next to the podium was a dance floor. And I learnt that in a Punjabi
wedding, after you greet the couple, you hit the dance floor, even if you have
two left feet. Everybody, young and old, from the groom’s side and from the
bride’s side, danced. Even more surprisingly, none of the grandpas and grandmas
had any hesitation dancing to tunes like “Munni badnaam hui…”! I realized then
that it was not the song. It was the dance. I began to wonder whether along
with all the other fundamental rights, there must also appear the right to
dance.
It was well past midnight, and slowly guests began to depart after a
delicious dinner and the exchanging of pleasantries. I retired for the night too,
but not before learning that the wedding rituals were yet to begin and would go
on till 4 am.
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
6|Page
The next morning, the neighbour’s family insisted that I have breakfast
with them. After breakfast, I went to the bride’s home to say good bye.
Everybody was asleep, except the bride’s mother. She showed no signs of
exhaustion despite having been up all night! Again, I had to have breakfast! “You
have travelled such a long distance. Why don’t you visit the golden temple
before you leave?”, she asked as I was heading out. “I do intend to visit the
temple,” I replied, “but not this time. I shall use it as an excuse to travel to
Amritsar and see you all again.”
Hopefully, I will have fewer than two left feet then.
Narendra Dixit
Journey
Little progress every day
Brings success on your way
Tough times come and go
With precious lessons as gifts to you.
Enjoy the journey, give it your best
Life will take care of the result, and the rest.
Kshetramohan Sahoo
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
7|Page
Ishwarchandra “Vidyasagar”
This article has been largely adapted from Debroy (1999).
Ishwarchandra Bandopadhyaya was born nearly 200 years ago on
26/9/1820 in the village of Virsimha in Bengal. Following the tradition of both is
grandfathers, his father wanted him to become a Sanskrit scholar. When he was
8 years old, he and his father walked to Calcutta in pursuit of this goal. His keen
sense of observation enabled him to learn Arabic numerals simply by looking at
the milestones. He joined the Sanskrit college, where, despite its name, both
Sanskrit and English were taught. As his father’s salary was very low, his singlecourse meal invariably consisted of boiled rice. He literally burnt the midnight
oil trying to master grammar, rhetoric, and literature. When there was no oil at
home, he read by the gas lights in the street. He won many prizes and
scholarships, and was given the title “Vidyasagar” (ocean of learning) even
before he graduated from the Sanskrit college in 1841. As was the custom in
those days, he was married at the age of 14 to Dinomoyee, aged 8.
Vidyasagar did not believe in idol worship; instead, he viewed his parents
as living gods. He was extremely devoted to his mother. Once when his mother
requested him to see her on a particular day, he set out on foot from Calcutta
and swam across the river Damodar on a stormy night. After graduation, he was
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
8|Page
appointed head pandit of the Bengali department in the College of Fort William
at a salary of Rs. 50/month. In 1851, he joined the Sanskrit college as the
principal. He encouraged the study of Western works in algebra, geometry, and
astronomy, and also English. After a few years, he admitted students from the
lower castes also. With support from the government, he set up model schools.
He wrote many books on grammar, and translated stories from Hindi and English
into Bengali. He is credited with the introduction of punctuation in prose, and is
regarded as the “father of modern Bengali prose”, and the “father of Bengali
literature” for children.
As the life expectancy was quite low in the 19th century, and child
marriages were common, many ladies became widows at a young age. They were
treated harshly by the society, and forced to observe frequent fasts. At times,
they were not even allowed to drink water during a fast. Vidyasagar revolted
against the wretched status of the widows. He launched a campaign for the
marriages of widows, using a verse from an ancient text to support his
arguments.
His campaign met with stiff resistance from scholars and orthodox
people, who stoned his house and threatened to kill him. Undaunted, he pressed
on until the Legislative Council of India passed an act in 1856 permitting the
marriage of Hindu widows. He was so committed to this cause that he spent
about Rs. 82,000 during the next decade to arrange 60 such marriages. When
Vidyasagar became affluent, he asked his mother what he could do for her. She
said that there was no well, hospital, or school in their native village, and
requested him to get these built. Being a dutiful son, he promptly fulfilled her
wishes. The school did not charge any fees, and books and tiffin were given free
of charge. It was shut down after a few years as the children had to go to work.
Sadly, even after 150 years, the same situation persists for some of the
children.
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
9|Page
Vidyasagar disliked pomp and show. Once he was turned away from a
banquet hall as he was not wearing a suit. When he returned in the proper
attire, he was allowed to go in. The host was astonished to see Vidyasagar
stuffing all the eatables into the pockets of his coat. ”You care more for my
dress than for me. So let my coat enjoy the food” remarked Vidyasagar. A young
man got down from train, and, spotting a elderly person who looked like a porter,
asked him to carry the luggage. “Why have you come here?” asked the porter.
“To attend Vidyasagar’s lecture”, said the visitor. When the latter attended the
lecture in the evening, he was shocked to see that the porter was none other
than Vidyasagar. He apologized profusely after the lecture. “The least you can
do is to carry your own luggage” admonished Vidyasagar.
Income from the sale of his books was substantial. He kept only a small
part for himself and his dependents, and gave away the rest to needy students,
widows etc. The poet Michael Madhusudhan Dutt, who faced financial
difficulties when he was abroad, received some assistance from Vidyasagar.
Dutt was moved to exclaim “You are not only Vidyasagar but also Karunasagar
(ocean of compassion )!”
One can admire his vision and determination in setting up the Calcutta
Metropolitan Institution in 1872 without any grants from the government.
It was the first private college in Bengal. Renamed as “Vidyasagar college”
in 1917, it has been functioning for nearly 150 years. He banned corporal
punishment in the schools he had set up. A child whose ear had been pulled hard
by the teacher refused to go to school. When Vidyasagar heard about this
incident, he coaxed the child to go back to school, and reprimanded the teacher.
The child was Narendranath Dutt, who would later become world-famous as
Swami Vivekananda. Since the industrial revolution, we have made unimaginable
progress in our conquest of the material world. Unfortunately, our “inner world”
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
10 | P a g e
has remained unchanged. Even now, there are reports of school children being
beaten severely by teachers for minor mistakes.
Vidyasagar passed away in 29/7/1891, leaving his mark on Bengali
literature, education, social reform, and institution building. Perhaps Longfellow
had such people in mind when he wrote:
“Lives of great men all remind us we can make our life sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us footprints on the sands of time.
Footprints that perhaps another,
Sailing over life’s solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.”
Reference
Debroy, D., Ishwarchandra Vidyasagar, in Remembering Our Leaders, vol.
9, Children’s Book Trust, New Delhi (1999).
K. Kesava Rao
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
11 | P a g e
What lay beneath…
Dry leaves rustled in the breeze
Cold mist embraced a lone figure in the distance..
She stood diminished among the tall coniferous trees,
That swayed in unison in a blissful harmony..
Yet her spirit magnified the purpose of her existence.
She tugged her sweater close,
Her silhouette emanating a glow of pride and grief….
With short, yet determined steps she walked
Her gait embodying an ocean of perseverance..
And her face heavily lined with experience..
She stopped at a holy garden of peace,
Where air stood still..
Where flowers had an eternal life..
Though hard that the ground beneath her was,
Soft and numb was what that lay beneath..
With eyes closed and lips trembling,
She sat on the solid earth
Her soul melting faster than ice in an inferno…
She caressed the ground with a gentleness of touching a new born
A touch that contained immense emotions and evoked a million memories…
A silent promise…
A single drop of tear…
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
12 | P a g e
She rose…an epitome of hope..
As she walked back,
Pearly tears she shed..
Of love and bereavement
A smile suddenly lit her tear stained face,
And she murmured a prayer with all the love in the world…
A grateful bow she offered..
To the one who lay cold beneath.,
For sparing a beautiful life in her womb
And then leaving her to a void of meaningful debt….
Anjali Jayakumar
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
13 | P a g e
Indian classical music and the 'beat science' of the tabla
Introduction
The vast ocean of Indian classical music with its plethora of complex
strains, hues and shades presents a compelling picture to the soulful. I would
like to touch upon and analyze a small drop of the ocean. My own experiences in
music are largely through the tabla, a wonderful Indian classical percussion
instrument which has crossed boundaries and explored all horizons of world
music. I wish to present some historical and technical aspects of this
instrument, and it's relevance of music in today’s era.
Music, a fine art
Aesthetic sense separates art from fine art. Music is a fine art where
aesthetics reach its epitome. Well, music is the expression of our feelings and
emotions in the form of sound. We have all been exposed to some form of music
or the other. As the world shrinks into a tiny village, we Indians have got a
flavour of what is happening around us. The genre 'vedic metal', which evolved
recently, is a perfect example of the fusion between the west and the east.
The history of Indian music itself is a rich and fascinating tapestry onto
which the influences of civilizations, invasions and time have been interwoven
into complex interlinking patterns. The current landscape of Indian music
consists of Indian classical, folk, regional and bollywood or filmy music. Lets
take a brief glimpse into the ancient Indian classical music and its evolution.
Hindusthani Classical Music
From the story of Arjuna using his skills to play the pakhawaj (a north
Indian percussion instrument like the mridangam) to distract people from
Bheema killing Keechaka, to Tansen singing 'Raag Megh Malhar' and creating a
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
14 | P a g e
torrential downpour to quench the parched fields, Indian classical music has
found a significant place in ancient scriptures and history books. Indian Classical
music can broadly be classified into two:
1) Hindusthani (which is the North Indian style) and
2) 2) Carnatic, which is the South Indian counterpart;
Each is resplendent with its own charm and beauty. Being a staunch devotee of
the Hindusthani classical music, I would like to share my views on the same.
Without going much into the details, I would like to highlight the style of
singing called as 'Khayal', which is a little more than a century old.
The khayal style of singing actually evolved from something known as
dhrupad, a very slow pace form. Khayal form itself has various styles. It is just
like tasting one dish at different restaurants. Even though the dish is the same,
different chefs have their own choice based on the method of preparation,
flavoring and the art of serving. Similarly, there are distinct styles of
Hindusthani classical vocal which are called as gharanas (style of singing) like
the mewati gharana (Pt. Jasraj is the torch bearer of this gharana), kirana
gharana (Late Pt Bhimsen Joshi belonged to this style), etc. These gharanas
evolved due to the kings who ruled different places. They would call eminent
artistes of their kingdom and request them to perform in their presence for
their entertainment. Eventually with time, these would evolve into styles of
singing, like Tansen being the entertainer of Emperor Akbar’s darbar (court). To
our pleasant surprise, all these gharanas have been well maintained, in the sense
that their purity, or the style of singing has remained intact. If one listens to
modern era vocalists like Vidushi Dr. Ashwini Bhide Deshpande and Vidushi
Dr.Veena Sahasrabuddhe, one can easily make out how their styles of singing
(Jaipur and Gwalior respectively) is different with each having their own way of
exploring the bandish (a fixed composition sung).
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
15 | P a g e
The melody part of a composition or a song, varies from place to place. As
we all know, any melody (song/composition) can be decoded into seven basic
swaras (tones, namely 'sa', 're', 'ga', 'ma', 'pa', 'dha', 'ni') which can be
further split to give twelve semi tones (except 'sa' and 'pa', rest have two
tones each, one the major, the other minor, which in Indian classical, they refer
to as 'shudh', 'komal' etc). Depending upon the permutations and combinations
possible among these tones, different ragas (a set pattern of tones) can be
composed. The beauty of these ragas lie in the feel they generate and all these
ragas have been assigned a time of the day for being rendered.
For example, we would all remember the famous song “Baje sargam” which
used to come on Doordarshan channel during our childhood days. This song is
based on 'Raag Desh' which is a late evening raga. Depending upon the tones
present in the raga they are classified as morning and evening ragas. Raagas like
'Megh Malhar' (It is a jod raag, meaning a combination of two ragas, Megh and
Malhar) are thought to please the rain gods. Raagas like 'thodi', 'lalit' are
known to generate a very sad feel. Tansen himself has many raagas named after
him like 'Mia ki Malhar', 'Mia ki Thodi' etc. It is up to the vocalist to explore
his way through the raaga to give the required feel. A raaga like 'Jog', which is
my personal favourite, can be used to generate a very pleasant feel as well as a
sad feel with the intelligent use of the semi-tones : 'komal ga' (minor 'ga') and
'shuddha ga' (major 'ga').
The raaga culture is so prominent in Indian music that even very famous
bollywood numbers have been influenced by the same. Even the famous number
“Munni Badnaam” from the hit bollywood movie Dabbangg, starring Salman Khan
is based on 'Raag Megh'. One would be amazed to know that if this song gets
dissected, all the tones used in the song would belong to this raaga. Other
popular songs like “Baapuji zara”, “Yaara silli silli” are based on the same raag.
“Tu Cheez Badi” from Mohra is based on the 'Raag Bhimpalasi'. All these are
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
16 | P a g e
examples where one finds the influence of classical music on our music
directors. A khayal form, whichever gharana it may belong to, will distinctly
have two sections, one the 'vilambit' (it may have more subsections like
'ativilambit', 'drut vilambit' etc) and 'drut'. Both of these have to do with the
pace with which the composition is sung. 'Vilambit' means very slow .Slow is
relative. In technical terms, pace till 120 beats per min can be treated as
'Vilambit'. 'Drut' means very fast. So this brings into the picture the
importance of pace in music or the rhythm part of it.
Laya or the Rhythm
Life itself is a big cycle of things repeating itself in a cyclic manner with
its own pace. Our days repeat from sunrise to sunset, our hearts beat at a
constant rhythm, and so on. Everything in nature follows a rhythm, a cycle. We
also walk in such a manner that our footsteps are paced at equal intervals of
time. In short, rhythm is an inevitable and beautiful part of life.
Any form of music will have two aspects going hand in hand, the raga (the
melody part) and the taala (the rhythm part). The rhythm is always a repeated
pattern continuously played to support the melody. These cycles can be of
different forms mathematically. Just like seconds making up units of time,
beats or matras make up the units here. A sixty second cycle is called a minute.
Similarly, a 16 beat cycle is called 'Teentaal' in Hindusthani classical. There are
different beat cycles present, which give different flavours to songs. Just to
cite an example, the very famous theme of the movie series, “Mission
Impossible”, goes in a 5 beat cycle initially and then changes to the 8 beat cycle.
But one needs an instrument which can produce or indicate these cycles. As a
reference the melody can follow. Such instruments are called percussion
instruments (avanaddha vadya), examples of which are drums, mridangam,
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
17 | P a g e
ghatam, kanjira, pakhawaj. I will talk about my favourite percussion instrument,
the tabla, which is a North Indian percussion instrument.
Origins of tabla - myth and reality
Hinduism has ascribed a certain deity for every aspect of life. For
example, for monetarial aspects, Goddess Lakshmi is followed. For education and
things related to music, Goddess Saraswathi and Lord Ganesha are renowned. It
is believed that Lord Ganesha used to play percussion instruments. The myth
behind the origin of tabla can be traced to the same Lord’s home. It is said that
once Ganesha was playing the pakhawaj (north Indian mridangam played by
keeping the instrument horizontally on the floor/thighs) and suddenly it fell
down and broke into two pieces. Quite upset with the incident, he started
looking for solutions to repair it. As part of the trial and error analysis to get
results (something we all researchers do), Ganesha took the two pieces and kept
them vertically on the floor and started playing it. To his amazement, it made
beautiful sounds. So in hindi, one would say, “tab bhi woh bola ” meaning then
also it made sound, and thus the name tabla.
Quite a story, but this is what my father (who is also my guru) told me
about the name and origins of the tabla.
The actual origin of this instrument is not well documented and is a
debatable issue. All that can be said is that, this is among the more recent
percussion instruments that evolved. On the technical side, the tabla consists of
two wooden pieces which are covered with diaphanous goat skin membranes to
produce sound, when given the proper tension. Depending upon the tension given
via thick skin strands, different tones can be set. For a person whose right hand
is the prominent hand, the piece kept on the left is called the 'bayan' or the
'duggi' or the 'dugga' and the right is called the 'dayan' or the tabla.
Collectively both are called the tabla. The dugga is usually made of a hollow
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
18 | P a g e
frustum made of steel/brass/copper with the upper portion covered with goat
skin supported by thick goat skin strands. The Tabla, is a narrower hollow
frustum made of wood with a similar topology. On the top, both the pieces have
the shyahi (charcoal) at the centre for the tabla and off centre for the dugga,
whose thickness determines the tone set, along with the strand tension. Both of
them are supported on 'chutti' (a ring made of stuffed cloth pieces), kept
vertically and played. The hand-hand coordination and the eye-hand coordination
are really important while playing the tabla.
The evolution
Initially used as an instrument in darbars (palaces) for accompanying
songs of the Mujra, tabla slowly found its place among the classical genre, once
the khayal style of singing evolved as an accompanying instrument. Similar to the
gharana culture, table also has its schools of tradition developed by great
Ustads and Pandits. There are basically six styles of playing namely:
1) Punjab 2) Ajrada 3) Farukhabad 4) Lucknow 5) Benares 6) Delhi.
Each style is so special that nowadays people specialize in multiple styles
to enjoy the beauty of each. For example, the Benares gharana is influenced
from the pakhawaj and is used for accompanying dance forms like kathak with
very strong compositions which requires some raw power at hand. On the
contrary, the Delhi gharana is known for its tender and gentle style of playing
with the prominent use of the index and middle fingers. Ustad Zakir Hussain,
the person because of whom Tabla enjoys the status that it has now, belongs to
the Punjab gharana, and, he himself plays many compositions from all the rest of
the gharanas in his solo performances.
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
19 | P a g e
Tabla is used to accompany many forms of music including bollywood
numbers, semi classical forms like ghazals, khawwali, bhajans and heavy classical
forms like khayal. The versatality of this instrument is so remarkable that it
has even replaced mridangam in carnatic classical for their kirtanas (devotional
songs). Fusion is one genre which has no bounds. However, the one point that one
needs to remember is that the purity of the original compositions should not be
lost while creating a fusion piece (instead of fusion, this leads confusion).
Tabla is a percussion which is extensively used along with drums in fusion
compositions. It was a moment of pride for all the tabla players around the
world, when Ustad Zakir Hussain performed during the inaugural ceremony of
the Atlanta Olympics in 1996. He is one person, who has single handedly carried
the aspirations of any table player to explore the world and make the world
recognize the beauty of this instrument. Modern generation players like Pt.
Anindo Chatterjee, Pt. Yogesh Samsi, Ustad Tari Khan have mesmerized
audiences around the globe.
The Beat Science
Music is also a science, in the sense that, it also evolves with time, new
things are discovered and explored. As explained before, percussion is all about
beats and how one maintains a repeating cycle of beats. All these cycles are
given names based on the no of beats involved in it. These cycles set the rhythm
for any composition.
One aspect in which a percussionist in general needs to be good at is the
layakari (the art of playing around with pace). This is something which is very
difficult to explain in words, but I will try my best. There are many taals (cycle
of beats) like 'teen taal' (16 beats), 'ek taal' (12 beats), 'roopak' (7 beats),
'jhap taal' (10 beats). All these cycles have their own speciality in the sense
that the arrangement of the beats in the cycle is specific to each. The arranged
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
20 | P a g e
set of beats or their pattern is known as jaati (class). For example chatushra
jaati is the simplest of all which goes in set patterns of 1, 2, 3, 4, with each
beat spaced equally with time while khandjaati is a 5 beat pattern ( 1, 2, 1, 2, 3)
with different spacing between the first two and the last three.
There are 5 jaatis: 1) Chatushra (4 beats getting counted as 1,2,3,4), 2)
Khanda (5 as 1,2, 1,2,3), 3) Tisra (3 as 1,2,3) 4) Mishra (7 as 1,2,3, 1,2, 1,2) 5)
Sankeerna (9 as 1,2,3, 1,2, 1,2,3,4). Layakari involves the mix of the jaatis, and
how one can incorporate 3 beats in a cycle meant for 4 beats, ie. tisra in
chatushra and the like. All at the end is mathematics in an aesthetic manner and
not haphazard beats for the sake of it. Tabla can be seen played in two forms,
one as a solo , the other as an accompanying instrument. In a solo performance,
the tabla player plays to his own will.
Memory of things to be played, the order in which things have to played,
maintaining the pace are some important aspects. As an accompaniment, timely
improvisation and following the main artiste is more important than dominating
him/her.
In a solo performance, there are certain protocols to be followed. The
tabla player has to play something known as 'peshkar', which means 'to present'.
This part is just like the introduction slide of our presentations (another
research cliche, thankfully the last one), which gives a broad outline of the talk
with the contents involved in it. Similarly in a peshkar, a tabla player will play
bols (the language of the tabla, the alphabets of which are called bols) which
will give the audience, an idea of what is in store later. Then he goes on to play
compositions like the 'kaayda' (a principle to be followed where he has to
improvise on a given set of bols only), 'gath', 'chakradar' and 'rela'. The
composition called 'rela' evolved from the word rail. It has a small history to it.
When the steam engine was brought to India, the kings were fascinated at the
sound it would produce. So, they asked the tabla players to invent something
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
21 | P a g e
which would sound like it. Thus came the bols or alphabets “thiriket” and “dhir
dhir” which when played in a particular fashion would sound like the sound of a
train moving. Thus the composition rela involves the use of these bols.
From fusion to classical to dance forms like Kathak, the tabla has made
its presence felt in almost everything. I hope I have succeeded to some extent
to shed light on some aspects of music in general, the Indian classical tradition
and the art of the tabla, a percussion wonder.
Sagar B, Convenor of Rhythmica (2011-2012)
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
22 | P a g e
Photography - A Passion with a reason
We all yearn to look back at the past for the sweet tidings in our lives.
Photographs provide us the window to do so. They bring back associated
emotions.
My journey into amateur photography started as a need for memoirs for
my nucleus family. I bought a simple fixed lens 38mm f3.8, point and shoot film
SLR (Yashica) way back in 1995. You load a film and batteries, point, frame and
shoot. It served the purpose and I did take some amazing portrait shots of my
kids, as they grew up. It was part of our baggage for all the trips.
A decade later, I met Jayant Sharma, a young amateur photographer, who
quit his IT job, to pursue his passion for photography. He is now a professional
photographer with a roaring photo travel business (www.toehold.in ). I attended
his first photography tutorial without a DSLR. A good DSLR for amateur shoots,
starts at around Rs. 20,000/- and I was not inclined to spend so much money. A
lot of research on film SLRs led me to choose a Minolta Maxxum 7000 with 3570 f4 lens slapped to it and picked it up at Rs. 2,500/-. I defied the normal
tendency to join the bandwagon of Nikon and Canon cameras and I am enjoying
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
23 | P a g e
it. The journey had started. In the process, I picked up many lenses viz. 28mm
f3.5, 35mm f2.8, 50mm f1.7, 58mm f2, 135mm f2.8, 300m f5.6 mirror lens and a
camera Minolta XD-7 at throw away prices.
The lenses are to be used in
different genre of photography – landscape, birding, portrait and macro. The
film SLR though good at a starting point had its own drawbacks. I needed to get
the film processed and then get them scanned. This took time and money. But
it’s still a pleasure to shoot with a film SLR because of their build quality and
the patience and technique needed to master and use them.
Moonlight shot with Film SLR Minolta XD-7; Traffic trails at BTM Main road
with Minolta XD-7.
Since I had invested in Minolta lenses, the obvious choice for upgrade was
Sony DSLR as I can slap the existing lenses onto them. So the search for DSLR
began. In 2009, Sony launched their Mirror less camera series Nex 3 & Nex 5.
The advantage being, I can adapt any lenses onto it with adapters. But all the
adapted lenses would be used in manual mode. So another journey begins into
the world of Manual mode shooting.
I picked up the Sony Nex 5 and Dzire VDi in December 2010 and went off
to a wilderness trip to Saklespur coffee estate and the South Kanara.
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
24 | P a g e
First Place in Sony Nex Background Defocus contest and a Sony 8” Digital frame
earned.
The old lenses were being unused and I then procured adapters. This
helped me venture into manual mode shooting and opportunity to capture birds,
moon shots, landscapes, action and macro shots. All the shots are handheld and
a few keepers being shown below.
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
25 | P a g e
The journey continues and there are many opportunities that come along
to fuel this passion, with a reason.
Narayana
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
26 | P a g e
Editor’s choice:
Gift of the Magi
- O Henry (1862-1910)
One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was
in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the
vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent
imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della
counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be
Christmas.
There was clearly nothing to do but flop down on the shabby little couch
and howl. So Della did it. Which instigates the moral reflection that life is made
up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.
While the mistress of the home is gradually subsiding from the first
stage to the second, take a look at the home. A furnished flat at $8 per week.
It did not exactly beggar description, but it certainly had that word on the
lookout for the mendicancy squad. In the vestibule below was a letter-box into
which no letter would go, and an electric button from which no mortal finger
could coax a ring. Also appertaining thereunto was a card bearing the name
"Mr. James Dillingham Young." The "Dillingham" had been flung to the breeze
during a former period of prosperity when its possessor was being paid $30 per
week. Now, when the income was shrunk to $20, the letters of "Dillingham"
looked blurred, as though they were thinking seriously of contracting to a
modest and unassuming D. But whenever Mr. James Dillingham Young came home
and reached his flat above he was called "Jim" and greatly hugged by Mrs.
James Dillingham Young, already introduced to you as Della. Which is all very
good.
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
27 | P a g e
Della finished her cry and attended to her cheeks with the powder rag.
She stood by the window and looked out dully at a grey cat walking a grey fence
in a grey backyard. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only $1.87
with which to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for
months, with this result. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. Expenses had
been greater than she had calculated. They always are. Only $1.87 to buy a
present for Jim. Her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for
something nice for him. Something fine and rare and sterling--something just a
little bit near to being worthy of the honour of being owned by Jim.
There was a pier-glass between the windows of the room. Perhaps you
have seen a pier-glass in an $8 flat. A very thin and very agile person may, by
observing his reflection in a rapid sequence of longitudinal strips, obtain a fairly
accurate conception of his looks. Della, being slender, had mastered the art.
Suddenly she whirled from the window and stood before the glass. Her
eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its colour within twenty
seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length. Now,
there were two possessions of the James Dillingham Youngs in which they both
took a mighty pride. One was Jim's gold watch that had been his father's and
his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Had the Queen of Sheba lived in
the flat across the airshaft, Della would have let her hair hang out the window
someday to dry just to depreciate Her Majesty's jewels and gifts. Had King
Solomon been the janitor, with all his treasures piled up in the basement, Jim
would have pulled out his watch every time he passed, just to see him pluck at
his beard from envy.
So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her, rippling and shining like a
cascade of brown waters. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a
garment for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. Once she
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
28 | P a g e
faltered for a minute and stood still while a tear or two splashed on the worn
red carpet.
On went her old brown jacket; on went her old brown hat. With a whirl of
skirts and with the brilliant sparkle still in her eyes, she fluttered out the door
and down the stairs to the street.
Where she stopped the sign read: "Mme. Sofronie. Hair Goods of All
Kinds." One flight up Della ran, and collected herself, panting. Madame, large,
too white, chilly, hardly looked the "Sofronie."
"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.
"I buy hair," said Madame. "Take yer hat off and let's have a sight at the
looks of it." Down rippled the brown cascade. "Twenty dollars," said Madame,
lifting the mass with a practised hand.
"Give it to me quick," said Della.
Oh, and the next two hours tripped by on rosy wings. Forget the hashed
metaphor. She was ransacking the stores for Jim's present. She found it at
last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it
in any of the stores, and she had turned all of them inside out. It was a platinum
fob chain simple and chaste in design, properly proclaiming its value by
substance alone and not by meretricious ornamentation--as all good things
should do. It was even worthy of The Watch. As soon as she saw it she that it
must be Jim's. It was like him. Quietness and value-- the description applied to
both. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with
the 87 cents. With that chain on his
watch Jim might be properly anxious about the time in any company. Grand as
the watch was, he sometimes looked at it on the sly on account of the old
leather strap that he used in place of a chain.
When Della reached home her intoxication gave way a little to prudence
and reason. She got out her curling irons and lighted the gas and went to work
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
29 | P a g e
repairing the ravages made by generosity added to love. Which is always a
tremendous task, dear friends—a mammoth task.
Within forty minutes her head was covered with tiny, close-lying curls
that made her look wonderfully like a truant schoolboy. She looked at her
reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.
"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second
look at me, he'll say I look like a Coney Island chorus girl. But what could I do-oh! what could I do with a dollar and eighty- seven cents?"
At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the back of
the stove hot and ready to cook the chops.
Jim was never late. Della doubled the fob chain in her hand and sat on the
corner of the table near the door that he always entered. Then she heard his
step on the stair away down on the first flight, and she turned white for just a
moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayers about the simplest
everyday things, and now she whispered:
"Please God, make him think I am still pretty."
The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and
very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and to be burdened with a
family! He needed a new overcoat and he was without gloves.
Jim stopped inside the door, as immovable as a setter at the scent of
quail. His eyes were fixed upon Della, and there was an expression in them that
she could not read, and it terrified her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor
disapproval, nor horror, nor any of the sentiments that she had been prepared
for. He simply stared at her fixedly with that peculiar expression on his face.
Della wriggled off the table and went for him. "Jim, darling," she cried, "don't
look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived
through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again--you won't
mind, will you? I just had to do it. My hair grows awfully fast. Say 'Merry
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
30 | P a g e
Christmas!' Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice.., what a
beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."
"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, laboriously, as if he had not
arrived at that patent fact yet even after the hardest mental labor.
"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don't you like me just as well, anyhow?
I'm me without my hair, ain't I?"
Jim looked about the room curiously.
"You say your hair is gone?" he said, with an air almost of idiocy.
"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too.
It's Christmas Eve, boy. Be good to me, for it went for you. Maybe the hairs of
my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but
nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I put the chops on, Jim?"
Out of his trance Jim seemed quickly to wake. He enfolded his Della. For
ten seconds let us regard with discreet scrutiny some inconsequential object in
the other direction. Eight dollars a week or a million a year--what is the
difference? A mathematician or a wit would give you the wrong answer. The
magi brought valuable gifts, but that was not among them. This dark assertion
will be illuminated later on. Jim drew a package from his overcoat pocket and
threw it upon the table.
"Don't make any mistake, Dell," he said, "about me. I don't think there's
anything in the way of a haircut or a shave or a shampoo that could make me like
my girl any less. But if you'll unwrap that package you may see why you had me
going a while at first."
White fingers and nimble tore at the string and paper. And then an
ecstatic scream of joy; and then, alas! a quick feminine change to hysterical
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
31 | P a g e
tears and wails, necessitating the immediate employment of all the comforting
powers of the lord of the flat.
For there lay The Combs--the set of combs, side and back, that Della had
worshipped long in a Broadway window. Beautiful combs, pure tortoise shell, with
jewelled rims—just the shade to wear in the beautiful vanished hair. They were
expensive combs, she knew, and her heart had simply craved and yearned over
them without the least hope of possession. And now, they were hers, but the
tresses that should have adorned the coveted adornments were gone.
But she hugged them to her bosom, and at length she was able to look up
with dim eyes and a smile and say: "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"
And them Della leaped up like a little singed cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"
Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She held it out to him eagerly
upon her open palm. The dull precious metal seemed to flash with a reflection of
her bright and ardent spirit.
"Isn't it a dandy, Jim? I hunted all over town to find it. You'll have to
look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see
how it looks on it."
Instead of obeying, Jim tumbled down on the couch and put his hands
under the back of his head and smiled.
"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep 'em a
while. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money
to buy your combs. And now suppose you put the chops on."
The magi, as you know, were wise men--wonderfully wise men--who
brought gifts to the Babe in the manger. They invented the art of giving
Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones, possibly
bearing the privilege of exchange in case of duplication. And here I have lamely
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
32 | P a g e
related to you the uneventful chronicle of two foolish children in a flat who
most unwisely sacrificed for each other the greatest treasures of their house.
But in a last word to the wise of these days let it be said that of all who give
gifts these two were the wisest. Of all who give and receive gifts, such as they
are wisest. Everywhere they are wisest. They are the magi.
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
33 | P a g e
Bhaisahab! Sachin ka chutta hoga
(Sir! Is there a replacement worth Sachin?)
It was more than a decade ago, when Indian cricket was marred by an
ugly controversy and some of its most experienced and best faces were shown
the door. That was when the weight of responsibility suddenly came down on the
shoulders of the young guns, and quite a few of them stepped up and made
themselves count. Of these, the best known are Dravid, Laxman and Ganguly.
Sachin, too was of that age group but counting him as inexperienced was harsh,
if not foolish.
Changes are the only constant of any system, the world is dynamic after
all. But this change in Indian cricket was more of a quantum leap - probably the
most risky of all changes. After all, the response of a system to an impulse is a
transient state, followed by a stable state later on.
I am not really into mythology but then, if we recall Krishna's famous,
“yadayada hi dharmasya…” it claims that whenever there is a loss of
righteousness, indirect rescue shall be provided by the Almighty (I hope I got
that right!). Well, Indian cricket at that stage was in shambles. Middle-order
collapses had become a prominent feature. They were steam rolled in Australia
and were in peril of losing to the same opposition in familiar territory as well.
This was probably the point where the incarnations were activated. And the
rest, as they say, was history.
The famous victory at the Eden Gardens was indeed the marquee one, but
any cricket follower would be aware of the number of match winning
performances by these champions. Especially, Laxman and Dravid had almost
made it a habit of digging India out of adverse situations. Quite deservingly,
this batch of players went on to become greats and India is rather fortunate to
still have them in mortal form (in cricketing terms). I started following test
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
34 | P a g e
cricket ardently at the age of 13, in 2001, and it is rather interesting to still
have the same names eleven years down the line.
But, of late there has been a slight twist in the tale. People are born,
they perform, they achieve and then they sign off, be it an engineer or an army
officer. The point to note is that, there is a specific age to retire in every
profession and there is a good reason behind it as well. Even life as a whole
makes you retire from the world after a certain age. How many people
realistically get to see their great grandchildren?
That is probably the issue which has given the blues to Indian cricket of
late. Sachin and Co. are teammates now, with their cricket great grandchildren
and it seems to be making up for whatever good they had done for Indian
cricket over the years, in a negative way. India was badly mauled in England and
Australia within 6 months, and guess who did not score runs? Well, actually
nobody did. But the fact of the matter is that, it really has become high time
for another quantum jump in Indian cricket. It's unfortunate that this has
become inevitable considering the fact that Indian cricket itself is responsible
for this sad state of affairs. The selectors failed to explore the option of
experimentation in test cricket.
Now, a popular counter argument is that the current batch of youngsters
in Indian cricketers has not shown capability in test cricket. Indeed, the
exponential rate at which cricket has been speeding up, has resulted in many
T20 specialists. But even a rope can cut through a rock if persevered with. In
other words, with the increased skill sets of modern day cricketers, with test,
ODI and T20 abilities, it would logically take more time to sharpen any one out
of the plethora. Virat Kohli, when given 7 tests on the trot, finally ended up
being the lone centurion from team India. Do we really need to assert, primary
school lessons like 'if you don't try you'll never know', for the selectors. I hope
they are aware of the powers bestowed to them.
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
35 | P a g e
So, it's high time that India gets a completely new middle order in test
cricket (with the newly laid varnish smell still emanating). Rahul Dravid has
always been an altruist and he simply reiterated that by hanging his boots. But
it's a little astonishing to see the other two still not getting the “we don't
belong to this generation” message. How many adults have you seen playing hiden-seek with the kids in a party? Even from a captain's point of view, in an
imaginary situation when one is with family, can you imagine giving orders to your
grandpa. Dhoni probably deserves some pat on the back for handling the
criticism well, and not retaliating to the tag of being an “ODI captain only”,
considering the fact that, in ODIs he has a pack of players who actually follow
his orders.
Before I condemn these demigods of Indian cricket, I bow down to their
achievements and feel ashamed to witness a point in time where external minds
are asking them to leave. I hope they do get a glorious retirement, unlike
Dravid. And as far as the question of the abilities of the current young lot is
concerned, I think the Kohlis, the Rohits and the Rainas will feature in several
such articles 10 years down the line, hopefully devoid of the critical half. For
the next couple of years, we just have to be patient and allow the transients to
pass and wait for the heartening stable state.
Saurabh
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
36 | P a g e
Lighten up – lawyer special !
(Sourced from the internet)
____________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Now doctor, isn't it true that when a person dies in his sleep, he
doesn't know about it until the next morning?
WITNESS: Did you actually pass the bar exam?
____________________________________
ATTORNEY: The youngest son, the twenty-year-old, how old is he?
WITNESS: He's twenty, much like your IQ.
___________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Were you present when your picture was taken?
WITNESS: Are you kidding me?
_________________________________________
ATTORNEY: She had three children, right?
WITNESS: Yes.
ATTORNEY: How many were boys?
WITNESS: None.
ATTORNEY: Were there any girls?
WITNESS: Your Honor, I think I need a different attorney. Can I get a new
attorney?
____________________________________________
ATTORNEY: How was your first marriage terminated?
WITNESS: By death.
ATTORNEY: And by whose death was it terminated?
WITNESS: Take a guess.
____________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Can you describe the individual?
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
37 | P a g e
WITNESS: He was about medium height and had a beard.
ATTORNEY: Was this a male or a female?
WITNESS: Unless the circus was in town I'm going with male.
______________________________________
ATTORNEY: Doctor, how many of your autopsies have you performed on dead
people?
WITNESS: All of them. The live ones put up too much of a fight.
_________________________________________
ATTORNEY: ALL your responses MUST be oral, OK? What school did you go to?
WITNESS: Oral.
_________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Do you recall the time that you examined the body?
WITNESS: The autopsy started around 8:30 p.m.
ATTORNEY: And Mr. Denton was dead at the time?
WITNESS: If not, he was by the time I finished.
____________________________________________
ATTORNEY: Doctor, before you performed the autopsy, did you check for a
pulse?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for blood pressure?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: Did you check for breathing?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: So, then it is possible that the patient was alive when you began
the autopsy?
WITNESS: No.
ATTORNEY: How can you be so sure, Doctor?
WITNESS: Because his brain was sitting on my desk in a jar.
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
38 | P a g e
ATTORNEY: I see, but could the patient have still been alive, nevertheless?
WITNESS: Yes, it is possible that he could have been alive and practicing law.
*********
A motorist was on trial for hitting a pedestrian.
His lawyer argued, "Your Honor, my client has been driving for over twenty-five
years."
"Your Honor," the plaintiff's lawyer retorted, "if this case is going to be judged
by experience, may I remind you that my client has been walking for over sixty
years!"
*********
A big-city lawyer was representing the railroad in a lawsuit filed by an old
rancher. The rancher's prize bull was missing from the section through which
the railroad passed. The rancher only wanted to be paid the fair value of the
bull. The case was scheduled to be tried before the justice of the peace in the
back room of the general store. The attorney for the railroad immediately
cornered the rancher and tried to get him to settle out of court.
The lawyer did his best selling job, and finally the rancher agreed to take half
of what he was asking. After the rancher had signed the release and took the
cheque, the young lawyer couldn't resist gloating a little over his success.
Telling the rancher, "You know, I hate to tell you this, old man, but I put one
over on you in there. I couldn't have won the case. The engineer was asleep and
the fireman was in the caboose when the train went through your ranch that
morning. I didn't have one witness to put on the stand. I bluffed you!"
The old rancher replied, "Well, I'll tell you, young feller, I was a little worried
about winning that case myself, because that durned bull came home this
morning."
CEA MAGAZINE 2012
39 | P a g e
Placement Details
Department of Chemical Engineering, IISc Bangalore (2011-2012)
NAME
COMPANY
Anand Prakash
Dr Reddy’s Lab (Hyderabad)
Mohanraj D
Andritz (Bangalore)
Rajasekaran M
Comsol (Bangalore)
Rajesh Kumar Bhagat
3M Indian (Bangalore)
Srinivasa Rao G
HPCL R&D (Bangalore)
Usama Ahmed Abbasi
TVS Motors (Bangalore)
Satyapaul Singh
RGUKT (Hyderabad)
Neelesh Shukla (Ph.D)
Aditya Birla R&D (Mumbai)
Hearty Congratulations!
Our Professors go from strength to strength each year.
Here is the latest news about the additional feathers in our cap.
1) Prof. V. Kumaran wins the ‘Prof. Rustum Choksi award for
excellence in research for engineering – 2012’
2) Prof. K. S. Gandhi wins the Dr B P Godrej ‘Life Time
Achievement Award - 2012’
CEA MAGAZINE 2012