Typing, Evolution and department of mathematics

Even after loops of scanning you'll not be able to figure out what is so special about this post. While I have no unreal expectation from the chance readers to come up with an answer, I would indeed like to tell them that this post is coming up at a painfully slow pace, because I'm typing it with the universally accepted rules of typing, involving all eight fingers and two thumbs. I had a dream last night of a beautiful Indian girl typing a love letter on an old typewriter in a decaying government building. I am convinced that I can only find and reach her through a stenographical job, and for that I must first acquire necessary skills. And here I am, practicing typing on freeware online tutorials, where I need to burst balloons by typing alphabet appearing on them to see the animals standing below dance in amazement, and to wait for fart like sounds to fill the room when I press a wrong key. Since the newly induced lag is giving me more time to think, some will plead that I should now be more responsible for the content I put up, not like the toilet bakar, which btw, I still maintain was a valid observation. After an arduous wait, my last blog got just 2 comments (generously counting), of which one was my own reply to a rather squeamish remark. These are the times when you think of the good old days when genuine appreciation wasn't hard to come by and there were takers in whatever your mind could muster and spill.

Just like my blog, even I've evolved over time. It may seem naturally routine, but already being at top of the chain, I find further evolution quite amazing. All my thoughts have been altered, to varying degree, about my own self and about things tangible and intangible. My ideas of own my department have witnessed a sea-change. In my first year, the precincts of mathematics department were darker than Mordor itself, and such thought is permitted if you take into account the conclusive resemblance of everyone in department (from faculty to clerks) to foul orcs. The tales of torment this evil empire inflicts on the poor freshman souls can send shivers down the spine of even darkest of sinners. For an year I trembled and cried for my own fate and things didn't change much until I entered second year and found my own reasons to visit the dreaded territory. And when I did, unexpectedly, I couldn't help but feel waves of patriotism walloping me. Walking down the alleys of the wrecked building is like walking in history through times of our revolution. With valiant names like Swaminathan, Balasubhramaniam, Tilak Raj Gulati, Raj Rani Bharagava, Gangopadhaya - engraved on the archaic nameplates, one is bound to wonder if the professors here are descendants of our exemplary freedom fighters. As patriotism diminished my fears and abhorrence, more mathematics started creeping into my life, and the department became and instrument of that. These small doses of interaction were useful indeed, but could never suffice for my unwavering skepticism and the preparations I was making for the war ahead.

I entered third year with valor and heart of a spartan king, to face and conquer my fears. But even before a shield was raised or a sword was whirled, the far too placative stance of the enemy made the battleground too amiable for a slaughterous war. It wasn't an amusement park ride exactly, but the once dark and spiteful enemy seemed to be indubitably generous and concerned. Though always strict, the professors weren't that bad at shelling out marks, or giving occasional breaks, or cracking occasional jokes, or sometimes asking our opinion and then implementing it as well. In fact as time went on, the hatred was discounted to cordiality. We are a small batch of eleven taking on this evil empire for the first time, and every little struggle of ours adds to our understanding a pinch of its own flavor. The iniquitousness of the professors doesn't seem so obvious anymore, it seems more like a delusion of the earlier years. The place itself doesn't seem so bad, the subject not so hideous. I am still not too senti about the department yet, but I can feel a more stronger association being forged every passing day. I can't say if its good or bad, but the department is indeed finding its place somewhere in the whole of myself and lending a push to the evolution of my spirit and body.

While that is all I can say of my department now, I am being lifted up by the beautiful clattering rhythm of my dabbing fingers, which are getting more quick and musical. My typing speed is taking off even before I draw curtains to this post, which may sound a drastic improvement but is actually spread over two days. I hope that one day this skill will help me get that beautiful women, but even if not, I'll make peace with what it adds to me. Till then, I'll keep bursting balloons and wait for my moment to arrive.