Quota- Unquota

Pune Metro work barricades have been put to good use by protestors demanding reservations for Marathas to block the road hundred meters on either side of my workplace building today. I cannot move out anywhere. Thankfully I have some food and water, access a good loo and internet, so I'm not worried. Not till evening at least. Some of our office staff couldn't have their lunch delivered and found a way to get home in the afternoon. I was a bit worried for them, but now that they're safe at home, It's all right. A few of my friend have been posting about the futility of protesting and harping about the benefits of merit vs. reservations. And I should agree with them, right? Merit is everything. Equal opportunity for all. Right? 

Right... But only if we lived in an ideal society. 

Unfortunately we don't. We may all be equal, but as the saying goes: some of us are more equal than others. Abundant opportunity and lack of roadblocks at almost all levels affords me the luxury to cry 'merit over reservations' but that's not a fair comparison. A person who has fought social and family circumstance and (unfortunately) the social hierarchy at every stage of his or her life doesn't have the same luxury as some of us do. 

Others like me have carpets rolled out for us. Our families encourage us, sometimes even push us to get a 'good' education. A major portion of the family earnings and efforts go towards ensuring we get everything to be able to get into the best institutions and do well for ourselves. And if we don't, we get other opportunities equally easily and there's always someone to fall back on in case things go south.  Are we at an advantage? Yes. And a distinct one at that.  

Suffice it to say, I am pro reservations.

I've had a few arguments with people about this. Even with my own family. And I've realised one thing: I shouldn't take the moral high ground. I might be a bigot in ways no one has pointed out to me yet and till then, I'd like to think that I haven't lost my idealism. Though I am more cynical about everything now than I was ten years ago.

Full Bridge rectifier.

(Misleading title alert!)

I visited Baroda eight years ago and came across a tiny music shop while wandering around the market at night. They had one of those small travel acoustic guitars on display and I knew I had to have it. (Despite already owning a regular sized one.) a small guitar is useful for me since I have short fingers. Not that it makes much of a difference to my less than mediocre guitar skills, but It is also very cute.

Anyway, I bought it at a throwaway price. Only much later would I realise why it was so cheap. But for now, I couldn’t be happier.

It started off great! I loved it and it loved me back. We were good together. We made music together, entertained people and traveled together. It was heavenly. But then the honeymoon ended. I couldn’t manage to keep it in tune for too long. Sometimes it would go off within fifteen minutes! The high e started jarring and buzzing. B played differently open vs. While strumming chords.I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. No matter what I tried, it would refuse to tune. Almost felt like I was losing my mojo, you know. Even consulted some friends who simply told me that it’s how it is with these little guitars and that I must live with it. But the other guitars I tuned and played worked perfectly, so I wasn’t the problem, but I would need to fix whatever that was. I worked hard on it. Removed and fixed all the tuning keys properly in alignment. Tried to adjust the nut height (I’m resourceful that way.) Even tried multiple guitar strings. Nothing worked. I kept trying. Kept failing. Then I started neglecting it. And almost gave up. The situation felt hopeless. The last nail in the coffin seemed to be when I decided to visit Spain in May where I intended to get me a new one. But something inside me resisted. I went for a flamenco show and ended up buying cheap castanets instead (Worth every one of the six euro I spent on them.)

I came back determined to fix my little guitar. After a few days of dilly-dallying, I finally managed to take it out of its dusty case, clean it, took a deep breath, coughed (we live in a dusty country) and began working on it. I knew most problems arose because the high e and b strings were touching the first and second fret. I had in the past, tried to adjust the nut. And it was impossible to remove and adjust the frets without damaging the guitar. The poor thing. I thought it’s finally over. But then one day I had a brainwave. Maybe I was tackling the wrong end. Maybe it wasn’t the nuts and the fret but the bridge. 

The bridge! I took a close look and the saddle looked exactly like it was how it should look. But something wasn’t right. I removed the strings yet again, and started adjusting the height of the bridge a millimetre at a time (I really am all kinds of resourceful.)

Bit by bit the sound improved. With a few trials I thought I finally did it. And oh boy was it perfect! It was well past midnight but we were making the sweetest sounds we’ve ever made and I wasn’t about to stop right then. It didn’t go out of tune even once. The e string stopped jarring and buzzing and even the b played perfectly.

And this wasn’t even a one off! I played it again a couple of days later and again and again. It wasn’t out of tune! Just a couple of adjustments and it was perfect again. No more jarring, no more buzzing. No more going horribly out of tune again!

Looking back, I can say that fixing something you love and believe in takes time, effort and commitment. The journey is long, winding and hard. But in the end it’s all worth it. A little flaw was the reason it was so cheap in the first place. But all it took was a small adjustment and some time and a tiny effort to make my little guitar great again.

And after all the bridge repairs, as I try playing some truly terrible acoustic versions of awesome AC/DC songs, you may call me (as the title of the post suggests) a Full Bridge rectifier. 

Things we do to cope with the tragicomedy of life in India.

I came across a video on twitter that shows a mobile traffic signal being carried away by gushing streams of water on the streets on Mumbai in the monsoons. Think about it... the system was designed hundred years ago for probably a hundredth of the current population. There’s nowhere for the water to go. We’ve left no place for it! And instead of flowing through drains clogged with plastic, water- being the way that it is (fluid) finds the path of least resistance which happen to be roads surrounded by tall buildings. This is the perfect water channel. And because it’s narrow, the water flows with a force that can take people and other objects along with it.

Now that video itself is more tragic than comic but the comment with it in the tweet made me laugh so hard, I had tears in my eyes. That’s real tragicomedy right there. The caption read: ‘Pehli baar signal khud road cross kar raha hai.’ This made all the difference between hopelessness and laughter. Its the ‘I live in a shit country but at least I can laugh about it’ syndrome.

But I don’t know how long I can keep making statements like ‘I live in a shit country.’ I have to admit that things are changing quite fast. The current govt is working with tremendous will, force and speed to make saying such things illegal.

That day might come soon. Till then I can say such things because I have freedom of speech and I’m still privileged. We make jokes about these things and that makes it a little better for us to cope with life.

It may also subdue any will to solve these issues but that’s a discussion for another day (i.e. never.)

Handing over.

Earlier this week, I quite ceremoniously handed over to my cousin a relic from what now seems like a very different life. I used to be someone tinkering with cameras and had gained quite a reputation among local photographers as being fairly fearless with them. Cameras I mean. I shot film, experimented with it too. Fixed many cameras which were donated to me since people found no need for them once the whole world went digital. This phenomenon predated the boom of mobile phone photography by a substantial number of years.

I don’t tinker with cameras as much now and I don’t experiment with photography either. My work takes up most of my time and I’m known as an architect rather than a photographer. In fact, most people who know me from after 2014 are completely oblivious to that side of me. It really does feels like another life when I was another person. And I have barely fuzzy memories of it.

I don’t really miss it, so why am I digging it all up again?

Because my cousin who is currently studying Film and Television at NYU wants to be a (self proclaimed) hipster-millennial-pretentious-film photography enthusiast. And I couldn’t be happier! She’s the closest I have to a real sister and I would give her anything she asks me for (Except a pair of earrings we fought over almost ten years ago.) She asked if she could have one of my film cameras. So I went to the store room and looked for my favourite Yashica Rangefinder. I cleaned it till it shone, replaced the old scrawny black strap with a scarf strap I’d made for another one of my cameras. Gave her a quick rangefinder tour and film camera lesson. Explained to her how my DIY battery solution worked and how if she ever faced a problem, should just go to BnH photo video and they’ll take complete care of it (I’ve never been to BnH photo video, but if and when I visit NY, that’ll be one of my first stops.)

When I finally took the camera off my neck and gave it to her to wear, she said that it felt like some sort of a formal handing over. Truth be told, I intended it. I wanted her to know that she’s embarking on something special. Something that has added so much value to my life so many years ago. What I loved most was to see the joy and excitement on her face when she saw how the camera works. The manual controls, the pressure one feels from the levers and gears while operating those controls. The viewfinder parallax, the sound of the film winding and shutter opening and closing... I felt nostalgic. Strangely optimistic and extremely happy. And satisfied. I felt most satisfied.

I didn’t just give her a camera and a photography lesson, I gave her a piece of me. And I can’t wait to hear about all the fun she has and all the fantastic things she’ll do with it.

Fare well my Yashica Electro 35. You’re in good hands.

Furter crashes

A day after my last post about reoccurrence of dreams about witnessing plane crashes, I dreamt about some more crashes. Except that those were helicopter crashes. Crashed righ after trying to hover over the building terrace I was standing on. I think one was supposed to pick me up and take me somewhere.

But I haven’t had any more dream crashes since.

recuring dreams redux.

I was sure I was never going to have a dream about witnessing a plane crash again. It’s been years since I did. Till today... when I dreamt of two really low flying planes crashing into each other possibly just after take off and falling too close to me. It was quite terrifying and I was helpless. But more so after I woke up and realised whatever made my subconscious dream of terrible plane crashes hadn’t really gone away. Or it came back. I don’t even know what it is! That made me panic ever so slightly and it takes a lot for me to start panicking at all!

On the other hand, maybe it was a one off dream and there’s nothing to worry about... let’s be optimistic!

Top-ish gear

When I decided to rent a car and drive in Scotland, it was for the most part inspired by Top Gear. I imagined myself being Jeremy Clarkson-esque- driving around the beautiful Scottish countryside with no one else on the roads enjoying the drive.

But it was not to be... for these following reasons:

1. I was driving the cheapest car I could rent which happened to be the Toyota Aygo.

2. Took a lot of concentration to figure out the traffic rules and signages. Sometimes too much signage is confusing. And between them, Laura guiding me and the google Maps lady, I had to really focus quite a bit. And that drains one out.

3. We drove to Bute on a bank holiday weekend. All the roads (and ferries) were full of people like us. Motirbikers were out too and so we generally couldn’t speed for too long.

4. I’m no Jeremy Clarkson. Though, I might be turning into an old cynical man, I’m not there yet.

The Three days of driving along the Scottish coast, countryside and island of Bute was quite and experience. Taking the car to and from Bute by ferry and driving around the island was definitely one of the most enjoyable experiences. With so many roundabouts, and sometimes confusing rules, I was a bit on the edge initially but by day three I was getting a hang of things and driving to and from Loch Lomond was a breeze. It was a typical Scottish summer day- cold, breezy and rainy! This has been one of the best driving experiences I’ve ever had! As I sip my complimentary drink in my hotel lobby, I’m toasting to more such unique drives in different parts of the world in the future!

And on that bombshell, we’ve come to the end of this post.

Unusual songs I want to dance the Salsa to:

Disclaimer: I've only ever taken a grand total of 2 salsa lessons of 45 minutes each. But every time I listen to this song, I want to dance the salsa. Unusual?(Or maybe I’m thinking of the cha cha cha... who knows.) The song, you ask? ‘Hooked on a feeling’ by Blue Swede.

Yes. I was singing this song while writing this post. And thinking about dancing the salsa with a generic awesome dancer. I’m predictable that way.

So long Instagram and thanks for all the fish.

I resisted opening an account on Instagram when everyone was doing it. I finally joined Instagram towards end of 2013 and I’ve been hooked ever since... That is till two months ago and I shouldn’t have said ever since.

The sole reason: Instagram has been showing me too much sponsored content. I hate ads whether they appeal to me or not. Every fifth post and second story is an ad and there is no option to pay for a subscription to avoid them. So I have decided to delete the app for the moment but my account still remains. If Instagram does decide to change its terms and shows me no ads or at least gives me an option to opt out of ads, I might come back to Instagram again. Who knows.

Till then I’ll continue posting on Flickr. (I ❤️ Flickr) 

‘Make Flickr great again!

(Ego) Booster shot.

Unexpected things happened over the last couple of weeks professionally.

1. Slight ego boost: 

My students had their final university thesis viva last week and I got feedback saying it went well and their project selection and design solutions were appreciated. I did not expect that considering the state they were in a few weeks ago. I suppose I expected more than what the university requires, but shouldn't we all? After their juries were over, a few of my students texted me excitedly. I suppose my first experience at guiding thesis students wasn't a complete disaster afterall.

And they don't want me back in second year. Apparently I'm going be the dissertation and thesis guide for students from the upcoming academic year. Exciting times... Maybe I'll thrive. Maybe I'll give up teaching entirely. Who knows.

2. This one is nothing short of a full blown ego boost: 

'Architect and Interiors India' publishes a list of 50 young upcoming architects and interior designers in their yearly anniversary issue. We (M+P architects collaborative) were included in this year's list of 50. Received a lot of love and appreciation for it from family and friends and architects we know. Hey... Every little bit of publicity helps.

And for the first time I shall, on this blog- plug my work website!

Summer is coming.

Not only are urban heat islands increasing the temperature of our cities, that in combination with our technology fueled lifestyle and explosion of urban areas has increased human discomfort in more ways than one. Unfortunately, we equate it all in terms of how hot it is.

AC ki Taisi by Bakarmax 

My 25 year old house used to be fairly comfortable throughout the year till 2016 when the small bungalow in a large plot next door was demolished to make way for a five storeyed apartment building. The trees were intact and there was sufficient space for air flow between the two buildings. Then why was I suddenly feeling hotter than usual? It's because our new neighbours installed air conditioners in their house and the outdoor units were facing the small window of my room which throw out hot air all the way into my room.

I don't have an air conditioner at my house. And I don't want to ever get one. I believe in cooling the natural way by respecting the climate and building spaces which makes a person comfortable if not supercooled (That's what being comfortable has become.) During summers, I sleep on the terrace at night under the stars (and a mosquito net obviously) where I need an extra blanket as it gets quite cold before dawn. One can say I am privileged to have a terrace and a house surrounded by trees and I would agree with them. Then Why do I complain about my neighbours and their air conditioning?

Say I got fed up of my neighbour's hot air throwing air handling unit, shut off the window and installed an air conditioner in my house... Then I will have installed an air conditioner since the air conditioner installed by my neighbour because it's too hot is making it even hotter.

But that's easier said than done. So if push comes to shove and you don't hire me to design an energy efficient house and want to install an air conditioner... What do you do?

I have a recommendation:

Most ACs these days use R410A or R32 (Freon) refrigerants- both hydrofluorocarbons (HFCs)rather than the Ozone destroying hydrochlorofluorocarbon (HCHC)R22 refrigerant which was used earlier.  We're not even talking about CFCs which were banned much before.

Scientists have come up with a very complicated term to compare gases based on their potential to cause global warming. 

It's called GWP (Global Warming potential.) read about it here. 

Let us compare the GWP for different refrigerants: 

For reference, the GWP of CO2 is 1

1. Isobutane (R600A) = 3 

2. Propane (R290) = 3

3. Freon (R32) = 675

4. R22 = 1810

5. R410A = 2088

Why, you may ask are R32 and R410A still used in ACs then? Because unlike R22, they do not have any Ozone depletion potential.

So let's talk about Propane: The first thing that came to my mind when I heard it can be used as a refrigerant is it's high degree of flammability. But one company in India has been able to develop an air conditioning system using Propane and has been manufacturing AC units using this since 2012. It's Godrej. The NXW series. As per their statistics, they have sold more than 1,00,000 units in India. So why don't more international brands going the Godrej way? 

Ans: Difference in safety standards. 

International brands have to follow stringent standards for their ACs which are American and European mostly (I'm guessing First world Asia i.e. Japan and South Korea follow those same standards)

Godrej operates a quality database that includes service feedback and where complaints and faults are systematically recorded. From this database Mr. Godrej has calculated that their R290 AC has a really tiny fault rate which sounds great unless you're part of the tiny bit.

Obviously as more people start using it, the tech and safety does gets better. There'll be more regulation in place for it and more companies can port to R290 in the future.

Chinese companies too have gotten support from their government to develop R290 Air conditioning systems.

On the other hand, maybe I'm missing something and there's still a case for not using Propane based Air conditioners because we still haven't explored all possible scenarios and materials yet. But some self-research for an informed decision is the way to go ahead. 

P.S.: In case you're wondering... Godrej hasn't paid me to write this post. In fact, no one has.

Zen and the art of online irrelevance.

Looking at my recent drafts on blogger, I realised I was going a bit overboard ranting about a lot of things, people and their behaviour that frustrated me. And I felt unnecessarily irritated with the sudden increase in advertising and aggression on my  social media feeds.

I am an aspirational zen person and till recently, I felt like I was achieving my zen goals. So what went wrong?

Then it struck me: Most of the advertising and content I see on these feeds is in reality targeted towards, and created by people who are younger than I am by at least five to eight years if not more. And while in an ideal scenario I would love to go back to ad-free days with less social media, I can’t without deleting my accounts permanently. I realise that I now possibly fit into the grumpy aunt category (I should ask a young person.) Meanwhile, just the realisation that the ads and the content don’t speak to me and the act of reducing the count of people and topics I actually read about on my social media feeds makes me feel lighter, better, less angry at the world and more zen again. I am being random on purpose so I know that people who I engage with online are really worth engaging with.

Sometimes, personal progress is all about taking a few steps back and being absolutely irrelevant to and on some parts of the internet and the people on it.

Key bored.

I took up many activities during the gap between my 12th exams and college admissions. I had all the time on my hands so I taught 10th std. maths, took lifeguard/life saving lessons and did a short course to become a swimming instructor and spent a good 4-5 hours in the pool daily. Those were the highlights of the summer. But there is a suppressed memory of an activity I took up and it was a traumatic one- synthesiser lessons.

Traumatic because those lessons were boring as hell. The teacher- talented as he was just couldn’t make the lessons engaging or fun. It was so bad that after a month, I gave up playing the keyboard entirely! And what a tragedy it was as before this, I loved playing the harmonium and a small synth I had... without any lessons!

A few months later, I borrowed my uncle’s old acoustic to take some guitar lessons and I’ve been playing ever since. I’m not very good at playing the guitar even now, but really enjoy it.

Then the other day I realised there was an old synth lying around at home. My cousin needed it for practice whenever she visited us during her summer vacations and had since graduated to a bigger one. All the suppressed memories of those traumatic hours spent trying to learn to play the keyboard came back to me, but it was going to be different now. I wasn’t going to take lessons. At least not immediately, and not from that teacher!

I took it out of hiding, cleaned it and plugged it in... The moment I played the first note after

a decade and a half, I realise how much I missed playing the synth.

I’m still pretty bad at it. I can practice and become marginally better. The guitar lessons come in handy and there’s always the Internet for help. But what I really love is how happy it makes me feel... As happy as the times I enjoyed playing the keyboard as a kid so many years ago!

Key bored no more!