This post hopes to be a reasonable argument discerning between the various aspects of a cultural fest. If you are a fanatic that pledges undying loyalty to the likes of Saarang/MI/Any fest with crores pumped into it. you should really stop reading now. Or now. You could also go on a fast as a means of protest. That certainly works better and has far less in the form of consequences than the option of blocking me. I may not have written 4 miserable books but I do know how to use hashtags. #chetanblocks
Getting back to the topic - The reason for this post lies in a conversation-debate-argument I had yesterday that involved the analysis of the aspects of a cultural fest. Although the chat didn't lead anywhere, it gave me a lot to think about. Given the hundreds of fests out there, the possibility of a fest standing out depends on very few factors. Mentioned here are what I feel are the biggest contributors to the status of being "big". For the fanatics: Before you begin, do keep your mind open, and for blood's sake, use your brain. If there are points of contention, I hope to god they do not revolve around grammar or the incorrect assignment of *random* numbers.
Factor M aka Teh Moola: There isn't much to say here. The culturals with the biggest bank to dig from ends up on top. This can also be the sole deciding factor in many cases - from cash prizes that want you to return the subsequent year for another sweep to half page event coverage in newspapers (Yes, we all know who the Arindam chowdhury of cultural fests is), the reasons for prominence rising from monetary advantages are many. This factor also accounts for the failure of many fests.
Factor F aka Teh Fun!: This is what sustains the interest of regular participants - the people that are a part of dance/theatre/lits groups. Even if the money on offer is low, and the advertising is limited, the simple word-of-mouth spread of information drags people in. This could range from a well conducted, fair event to the presence of elements on campus that add to the charm (Yes, I mean NLS). This factor often overpowers the negatives of the monetary aspect but will not be enough to bring in participation from non-regular members.
Advertising aka Teh Face: What colleges see first when they hear of a fest is very important. The publicity video that goes out and the posters that are put up in other colleges could very well decide the fate of a fest, especially if they are lacking. The closest example I can give would be that of Festember itself - the video, on top of being found lacking, was mocked at some of the colleges that were visited. The abuse of the "headphones" pretty much killed it. Preventing a Facepalm is as simple as making the publicity material good.
Location aka Teh WhereTF: Let's face it. No matter how good a fest is, if it is at a college that is hundreds of miles from civilization, nobody is going to want to go there. Nobody, here, includes participants as well as sponsors. And without this financial backing, we are back at the dead end of Factor M.
The Analysis:
The combination of all these points at one fact - However interesting or fun a fest is, the chances of it being recognized depend heavily on the student community that supports it. If a fest banked on its fun factor, chances are, it would crash. Without good organization, it falls on its face. Without participation, there are no numbers to show to future sponsors. And without these sponsors, there is practically no hope of getting more participants the next year. Now, I'm not saying this evil circle gripped Fember. There was enough mediocrity in the organization to kill it without the other factors even playing a role. Marred by a disastrous publicity vid right at the beginning and having numerous problems during the execution (Acco, for eg.), I could even go as far as saying the entourage brought by the regulars was its saving grace.
The main point posed as argument to my statement (which is more or less what I've written here) was that a cultural fest that is good cannot be obscure. I agree to this to an extent. Any fest that people like will have its set of dedicated regulars to keep it alive but it ends there. There is no reason for the crowd coming in to exceed this basic participatory amount. There is no way that word of mouth can make up for all the other factors shadowing its popularity. You like the fest, you tell your friend. He might tell his friends about it, who, in turn, might tell theirs. Going by plain probability, the odds are not for it. It is possible, although the mathematical improbability is stacked against it.
There is a lot more to add to this that simply cannot be done by presenting to the reader my views. If I feel there is adequate information to add to this, I shall in the future. If you are a staunch supporter of some really big fest (say, Saarang), analyze exactly what makes your fest good. I have no intention of beginning a silly debate here. However, if you choose to break down the facts and look at them objectively, I would love to start our discussion there. My summary is that many fests suffer due to one or many of the reasons listed above. It would be a harsh (and somewhat stupid) move to condemn it as a failure simply because you haven't heard of it. Saarang is not the best. Festember is not the worst. And there are facets of one that better the other. Look at your own fest critically. Think.
Leave your views, replies, rants and phone numbers in the comments section.
Have u seen mah bukkit?
I am not the lolrus.
After nearly 3 years, I've started designing again and I've put up the offspring from my latest affair here. This new start also brings new experiments - the most obvious of which is my shift to 3D. Dropping plain Photoshop and adding Cinema 4D (and in some cases, a combination of the two) to my worktable, the style of my latest phase is shifting closer to jaw-dropping/stunningly realistic images. It is a long way though, and having two projects and a bit of work doesn't make the transition smoother.
The induction of C4D didn't go well either. Starting with the loss of half my installed software and a subsequent state of semi-depression that involved seeking succour on FB (which eventually degenerated into a discussion of the Group of Death) and research on methods of self-termination (where 1 page in 12 actually told you how to do it), I gradually recovered and faced less-serious-but-troubling-all-the-same problems. Like my computer hanging (which, incidentally, I faced an extra time because a friend wouldn't believe that the rendering of certain images could really cause computers to crash). The butterscotch praline on the cake was my discovery of heavy usage on my condemnably limited internet plan, which would force me to cut down the time online or shell out money. Seeing as I was incapable of performing the latter, I was (am) forced to stop fBS, among other things.
Faced with despair, I convinced myself that making little pieces of 3D art was the key to making my life a whole lot better and set about working on C4D. The results were not wholly unsatisfactory. And while you're at my photobucket album, go through the other folders as well. I could do with some positive reinforcement right now ^_^.
On a different note, some of you might have noticed the Wikipedian appeals for donations on your recent visits there. If you have cash to spare, do contribute. You may lose a week's supply of Absolut but your contribution to the sharing of knowledge helps a lot of people. And who knows, the fairer sex might even appreciate your new found sobriety!
After nearly 3 years, I've started designing again and I've put up the offspring from my latest affair here. This new start also brings new experiments - the most obvious of which is my shift to 3D. Dropping plain Photoshop and adding Cinema 4D (and in some cases, a combination of the two) to my worktable, the style of my latest phase is shifting closer to jaw-dropping/stunningly realistic images. It is a long way though, and having two projects and a bit of work doesn't make the transition smoother.
The induction of C4D didn't go well either. Starting with the loss of half my installed software and a subsequent state of semi-depression that involved seeking succour on FB (which eventually degenerated into a discussion of the Group of Death) and research on methods of self-termination (where 1 page in 12 actually told you how to do it), I gradually recovered and faced less-serious-but-troubling-all-the-same problems. Like my computer hanging (which, incidentally, I faced an extra time because a friend wouldn't believe that the rendering of certain images could really cause computers to crash). The butterscotch praline on the cake was my discovery of heavy usage on my condemnably limited internet plan, which would force me to cut down the time online or shell out money. Seeing as I was incapable of performing the latter, I was (am) forced to stop fBS, among other things.
Faced with despair, I convinced myself that making little pieces of 3D art was the key to making my life a whole lot better and set about working on C4D. The results were not wholly unsatisfactory. And while you're at my photobucket album, go through the other folders as well. I could do with some positive reinforcement right now ^_^.
On a different note, some of you might have noticed the Wikipedian appeals for donations on your recent visits there. If you have cash to spare, do contribute. You may lose a week's supply of Absolut but your contribution to the sharing of knowledge helps a lot of people. And who knows, the fairer sex might even appreciate your new found sobriety!
Beating the system
The exams draw to a close for engineering colleges across the country. The sighs and whimpers of a significant portion of this populace is as apparent as it is expected. Once again, a month is spent dreading the arrival of the next semester. And once again, a month is spent awaiting the arrival of those numbers and letters that define a student in the eyes of the parents. This is not a log calling upon the system to change. It merely derides it.
Why is it that these grades are seen as better markers of performance than a student's ability to excel in a field of his or her choice? It can be said that at least a third of engineering students would rather be pursuing some other avenue. Pushed into these streams by peer or parental pressure, some of them trudge through, even if the goal is merely getting to the other side with the hope of a better, and perhaps more interesting, life after. Others grind through these years with no plans beyond these four and join the herds flocking to an IT company. Yet others choose easier ways out and drop out and attempt to rebuild their lives around a course of their interest. And then there are the few that lose hope and resort to escapism to deal with the mounting pressures brought upon them by an army of sheep pushing and pulling to secure the grades of distinction that a failing system bestows upon them. These few are not the only ones falling to the viles but they definitely are the ones worthy of that bit of pity. Whether it is alcohol, dope, smoke or being locked up in a room with a cup of noodles and a TV show for the whole day (A disclaimer that these are just examples might seem ironic), the fact remains that these methods are nothing but base, escapist tendencies. It must be easy for those without these indulgences to pass judgement upon the seeming lesser mortals. What should be considered is not their unsavoury act of leaving the path but the causes for the very straying. As mentioned, it is easy - a bit too easy at that - to mark them as losers, and move on without a second's thought.
Why does this start, anyway? Maybe, all the hours spent in a room full of marijuana smoke have a meaning that the "smarter" ones refuse to see. Be it a drop in GPA or a disillusionment with the educational system as a whole, each is a reason as good as the other for someone on the verges of depression to sink lower and give up on studies - or on life, for that matter. The onus is on the ones that still hold on to their sanity and sensibility to drag the others out, even if it means getting a little muck on oneself. It takes a pat on the back and a meal shared at a fancy restaurant to profess friendship but these hours of seeming attachment mean little if the need for a friend is not satisfied in those hours when someone is spiralling down into despair. Of course, the fault isn't entirely with the ones that are better off. There is some hesitation owing to the fear of seeming overbearing. This leaves a small gap between the two groups that must be bridged by some indication that help is needed. It isn't humiliating to go to a friend for help or to share problems with someone. Understably, this step is the hardest to cross and is where most of the connections break. Even so, a minute spent thinking about what is right might prevent a decision to end it all.
Most of what is written would appear somewhat directed and hence, a bit without meaning, but sit on it a while. If you're got friends that need help, don't hesitate. And more importantly, if you need help, don't keep it in. It doesn't have to be a beer buddy or even someone of the same sex. If you consider someone a friend, talk to them. Anything is better than wasting your life away. That's what friends do anyway - they look out for each other.
Why is it that these grades are seen as better markers of performance than a student's ability to excel in a field of his or her choice? It can be said that at least a third of engineering students would rather be pursuing some other avenue. Pushed into these streams by peer or parental pressure, some of them trudge through, even if the goal is merely getting to the other side with the hope of a better, and perhaps more interesting, life after. Others grind through these years with no plans beyond these four and join the herds flocking to an IT company. Yet others choose easier ways out and drop out and attempt to rebuild their lives around a course of their interest. And then there are the few that lose hope and resort to escapism to deal with the mounting pressures brought upon them by an army of sheep pushing and pulling to secure the grades of distinction that a failing system bestows upon them. These few are not the only ones falling to the viles but they definitely are the ones worthy of that bit of pity. Whether it is alcohol, dope, smoke or being locked up in a room with a cup of noodles and a TV show for the whole day (A disclaimer that these are just examples might seem ironic), the fact remains that these methods are nothing but base, escapist tendencies. It must be easy for those without these indulgences to pass judgement upon the seeming lesser mortals. What should be considered is not their unsavoury act of leaving the path but the causes for the very straying. As mentioned, it is easy - a bit too easy at that - to mark them as losers, and move on without a second's thought.
Why does this start, anyway? Maybe, all the hours spent in a room full of marijuana smoke have a meaning that the "smarter" ones refuse to see. Be it a drop in GPA or a disillusionment with the educational system as a whole, each is a reason as good as the other for someone on the verges of depression to sink lower and give up on studies - or on life, for that matter. The onus is on the ones that still hold on to their sanity and sensibility to drag the others out, even if it means getting a little muck on oneself. It takes a pat on the back and a meal shared at a fancy restaurant to profess friendship but these hours of seeming attachment mean little if the need for a friend is not satisfied in those hours when someone is spiralling down into despair. Of course, the fault isn't entirely with the ones that are better off. There is some hesitation owing to the fear of seeming overbearing. This leaves a small gap between the two groups that must be bridged by some indication that help is needed. It isn't humiliating to go to a friend for help or to share problems with someone. Understably, this step is the hardest to cross and is where most of the connections break. Even so, a minute spent thinking about what is right might prevent a decision to end it all.
Most of what is written would appear somewhat directed and hence, a bit without meaning, but sit on it a while. If you're got friends that need help, don't hesitate. And more importantly, if you need help, don't keep it in. It doesn't have to be a beer buddy or even someone of the same sex. If you consider someone a friend, talk to them. Anything is better than wasting your life away. That's what friends do anyway - they look out for each other.
Back without a bang
I'm back. Even though I didn't say so with a heavy austrian accent, it was somewhat expected. And here is a three piece discourse; each, a discourse on the near present.
The week that was:
Rain is beautiful. As each drop falls and lowers the temperature and every bit of moisture seeps into the earth, you let it soak you up with the smell and joy that comes with it. You think of hot chocolate, snuggling under a warm blanket and girls - or some combination of the above. You think of how wonderful the weather is. You bask in the wet radiance. The weather is perfect for just about any activity you enjoy. What it isn't, is the right time to study. When you need to study, everything fades and what is left is the ghostly, gray shell of life. You notice the bugs that come with the rain, the mold that grows on your food and the way the cloudy sky lowers the luminous flux density in your room. The colour leaves your life and your dreams/nightmares revolve around the timing cycles of microprocessors (or other equally retarded topics). Your mood drops well before your GPA. Suffice to say, my hopes of scoring high this semester were washed away.
Add to this, the disappointment of not getting to visit NLS for their culturals.
Today:
Logging in to my blag, I find some people actually like my serious article. And before I get the chance to complete a "Wait...What?", I notice that the number of people reading my blag has gone up (Yay!).
Tomorrow and beyond:
Two projects and a semi-internship loom large in the horizon. On the brighter side of life, there are visits to the beach and to ICHC. If things go well, I will also get back to being active on the interweb ^_^
The week that was:
Rain is beautiful. As each drop falls and lowers the temperature and every bit of moisture seeps into the earth, you let it soak you up with the smell and joy that comes with it. You think of hot chocolate, snuggling under a warm blanket and girls - or some combination of the above. You think of how wonderful the weather is. You bask in the wet radiance. The weather is perfect for just about any activity you enjoy. What it isn't, is the right time to study. When you need to study, everything fades and what is left is the ghostly, gray shell of life. You notice the bugs that come with the rain, the mold that grows on your food and the way the cloudy sky lowers the luminous flux density in your room. The colour leaves your life and your dreams/nightmares revolve around the timing cycles of microprocessors (or other equally retarded topics). Your mood drops well before your GPA. Suffice to say, my hopes of scoring high this semester were washed away.
Add to this, the disappointment of not getting to visit NLS for their culturals.
Today:
Logging in to my blag, I find some people actually like my serious article. And before I get the chance to complete a "Wait...What?", I notice that the number of people reading my blag has gone up (Yay!).
Tomorrow and beyond:
Two projects and a semi-internship loom large in the horizon. On the brighter side of life, there are visits to the beach and to ICHC. If things go well, I will also get back to being active on the interweb ^_^
In a name
Teh. Blag. Half a dozen other idiosyncracies that would leave you thinking I needed grammar/spelling training. Those that lurk around webcomic sites would probably smile at the references. An occasional post that made perfect sense would have seemed more like a chance meeting with sanity that dropped the facade by the next post. To those that I left baffled with my spellungs, this should open an eye.
I can sum up most of this with one word(phrase?) - xkcd. The site that I found while searching for answers to a certain shady quiz somewhere has influenced my writing (at least the not-so-serious parts of it) almost as much as Adams. Toting itself as "A webcomic of romance, sarcasm, math, and language", it caught my attention with a particular strip. From then on, we've been hitting it off pretty well (well enough for me to give serious thought to geohashing at Chennai).
That (rather short) piece sums up the reasons for my blag. The Teh part is just the regular internet culture of swapping nearby letters (to imply rushed/lazy typing). So, there. That's about all there is in a name.
On the topic of xkcd, my article about is due. I'll try to stick that in by the end of the month. And if anyone reading this has a car and is in the mood for a geohash, let's meet up ^__^.
I can sum up most of this with one word(phrase?) - xkcd. The site that I found while searching for answers to a certain shady quiz somewhere has influenced my writing (at least the not-so-serious parts of it) almost as much as Adams. Toting itself as "A webcomic of romance, sarcasm, math, and language", it caught my attention with a particular strip. From then on, we've been hitting it off pretty well (well enough for me to give serious thought to geohashing at Chennai).
That (rather short) piece sums up the reasons for my blag. The Teh part is just the regular internet culture of swapping nearby letters (to imply rushed/lazy typing). So, there. That's about all there is in a name.
On the topic of xkcd, my article about is due. I'll try to stick that in by the end of the month. And if anyone reading this has a car and is in the mood for a geohash, let's meet up ^__^.
Lights of a Festival
He rolled the last one. That would be it for the day. He hated working late before a holiday. He would miss the early hours of the morning when the air was fresh. He looked at his hands. Black. As always. He lifted his fists to his face. The thick smell crawled into his nostrils. Months back, when he still held on to the hope his anna had promised him, he would have found it repulsive. Now, it was just another affront to his senses. Like the black all around him. Like the coarse powder that lined everything about him. Like the laughter of the younger children outside that hadn't entered his world yet. They would eventually. They, too, would be conditioned to ignore all of this. That's how it always went. Anna had spoken of a way out. But he wasn't around. Not after the fire at the other godown last year. Anna had spoken of going to Madras. There was always a job in a big city. And you didn't even have to get your hands covered in the powder. You could make tea. Or sell something on the streets. A decent living. Anything seemed possible when anna said so. All those dreams went with anna and the fire last year.
He got up and walked towards the exit. The coolies were lazing outside. One of them held a beedi in his hand. Anna used to smoke too. Nobody could tell anna what to do; He was older than all of them. He knew much more about the world. If anna smoked a beedi, it was because that was what all men did. He kept begging him to stop. Not that his words were heard. Anna did as he liked. It was the privilege of being born a year earlier. A year earlier. He was as old now as anna was on the day of the fire. Time seemed to mean so little now. Day after, the work would resume. There was always an order, especially for the large thousand-walas. Even after the festival, it would be no different. He thought of what could have been if that fire hadn't started. If only anna had listened to him and stopped smoking.
Thank you for reading. That was my first attempt at writing some serious material. I hope I didn't disappoint. I don't really know why I wrote it. Some conversations I had been having recently laid the seeds for it. I just hope you like it.
Happy Deepavali.
He got up and walked towards the exit. The coolies were lazing outside. One of them held a beedi in his hand. Anna used to smoke too. Nobody could tell anna what to do; He was older than all of them. He knew much more about the world. If anna smoked a beedi, it was because that was what all men did. He kept begging him to stop. Not that his words were heard. Anna did as he liked. It was the privilege of being born a year earlier. A year earlier. He was as old now as anna was on the day of the fire. Time seemed to mean so little now. Day after, the work would resume. There was always an order, especially for the large thousand-walas. Even after the festival, it would be no different. He thought of what could have been if that fire hadn't started. If only anna had listened to him and stopped smoking.
Thank you for reading. That was my first attempt at writing some serious material. I hope I didn't disappoint. I don't really know why I wrote it. Some conversations I had been having recently laid the seeds for it. I just hope you like it.
Happy Deepavali.
Crushes - Part 2
I suppose you were waiting. Well, you better have been.
It is time that my treatise on girls, crushes and the whole love scene is dwelled upon in further detail with the narration lending a bit more light on my most recent fling. For those of you that complained of a silly, puppy-love tinge to my previous post, I hope you were expecting a change. It makes it all the more fun to get under your skin.
First, and foremost, I would like to declare that I am over my little fancy. Yes, quite sudden, I agree. Given that I only admitted to a crush, this change can, perhaps, be overlooked. Of course, if you didn't find it sudden when I started it a week back, this would barely ruffle a feather. Providing, as it did, little comic caper, the past week made me think. Consider my case: I'm in a college with girls that run straight into two categories - uninteresting or taken. Seeing as neither is likely to provide engaging company for the evening, my thirst slips into a little status quo that seeks little and sleeps long. This equilibrium, much like that of a mexican standoff, takes little to be thrown off balance. As little as the sight of a cute girl. Picture a see-saw. With a fat guy. And me. When you throw a swan in a pool of ducks (pardon my reference to ugliness), being temporarily stupefied by the brilliance and beauty is a fairly common reaction. It did take me by surprise though.
In the end, it probably comes down to the aspects of character that draw you in. I would find it rather weird to spend a day conversing with someone that hasn't heard of Jedi. Or Star Wars, for that matter. Even so, weird could be interesting. As the situation has not been juiced to its limit, I just might continue. The idea of making contact and pretending to be a stalker should prove funny. Or I could let her read my chatlog (Refer: Crushes - Part 1). Whichever path this takes, a bit of fun seems to be drawing closer.
Oh, and if you're a girl, you have my gratitude for being one.
It is time that my treatise on girls, crushes and the whole love scene is dwelled upon in further detail with the narration lending a bit more light on my most recent fling. For those of you that complained of a silly, puppy-love tinge to my previous post, I hope you were expecting a change. It makes it all the more fun to get under your skin.
First, and foremost, I would like to declare that I am over my little fancy. Yes, quite sudden, I agree. Given that I only admitted to a crush, this change can, perhaps, be overlooked. Of course, if you didn't find it sudden when I started it a week back, this would barely ruffle a feather. Providing, as it did, little comic caper, the past week made me think. Consider my case: I'm in a college with girls that run straight into two categories - uninteresting or taken. Seeing as neither is likely to provide engaging company for the evening, my thirst slips into a little status quo that seeks little and sleeps long. This equilibrium, much like that of a mexican standoff, takes little to be thrown off balance. As little as the sight of a cute girl. Picture a see-saw. With a fat guy. And me. When you throw a swan in a pool of ducks (pardon my reference to ugliness), being temporarily stupefied by the brilliance and beauty is a fairly common reaction. It did take me by surprise though.
In the end, it probably comes down to the aspects of character that draw you in. I would find it rather weird to spend a day conversing with someone that hasn't heard of Jedi. Or Star Wars, for that matter. Even so, weird could be interesting. As the situation has not been juiced to its limit, I just might continue. The idea of making contact and pretending to be a stalker should prove funny. Or I could let her read my chatlog (Refer: Crushes - Part 1). Whichever path this takes, a bit of fun seems to be drawing closer.
Oh, and if you're a girl, you have my gratitude for being one.
