Hmm..where was I??

Owing to those unprintables, Life and research coming in the way of the creative processes involved in the making of quality online-prose, this little page has been untouched in the past few months. However, the Universe, getting bored with the normalcy in my life, it seems decided that it was time She resumed Her favourite pastime and that it was again my turn to get that Googly She bowls us mortal folks every once in a while (I admit She skipped a few to get to Her favourite). And this time, the Googly she bowled me this time was a specimen, a peach of a ball if I might add.

Enough of drivel. Getting to the crux of things, one fine day, as I was checking my mail, I happened to chance upon a mail whose subject read 'Grad Speed Dating'. The initial ponderings about how three simple words from the lexicon which made sense in isolation but didn't make a fleeting iota of sense when put together (others in the list include 'grad-student' and 'financially solvent' and, of course the classic, 'Single Indian grad student' and 'sex') were replaced by a piqued curiosity about the mail's content. With the curiosity piquing happening to a tee, I proceeded to read the mail. It turned out that the Graduate Students Association at my University was helping a grad student with collection of data for her PhD and hence was conducting a speed-dating event for grad students. I can see that readers, at this point, would be having lines on their foreheads trying to understand this leap in logic. However, I swear that it makes sense. I signed up for the event post-haste. What happened next can only be described as the remnants of the digestive process hitting the fan.

The way this speed-dating thingy works is that there are 15 tables where the ladies are seated. The gentlemen get four minutes to chat up with their speed-dates, the end of which is indicated by a whistle (PS: What other pastime does the whistler have? Drawing his mother..muhaha) after which the gentlemen move on to the next table. This particular evening, it was held in the patio of the University's Student Union. With chocolates in every table, bottles of water, a starry sky and a heavy metal band playing in the arena nearby with low-flying jets providing back-up music, the mood was perfect. The time given per date is an interesting number. Although I will refrain from citing articles in Nature, I will impress upon my readers the fact that most people find their soul-mates in the first minute of meeting them. What these researchers failed to realize was that even if people do manage to find that soul-mates of theirs in the first minute, they do not know what to talk to each other for the other three minutes that they are supposed to be speed-dating. A typical conversation:

ARK: Hello. I am Ananth.
Lady: I am The Rock of Gibraltar (since a rose by any other name will smell just as sweet, I will name the generic lady in question 'The Rock of Gibraltar'. Why the Rock of Gibraltar? Because 'hanger', 'deodorant spray' and 'table-lamp' were already taken)
ARK: Good good.
ROG: What did you say your name was?
ARK: Ananth. Thats 'A', 'N'
ROG (after scribbling it down): Aa-hunh..
ARK: 'A', 'N'
ROG (still waiting..): Aa-hunh...
ARK: My name has two 'AN's in it.
ROG: Aah..Sorry about that!
ARK: No problem.
ROG: So what do you do?
ARK: I am doing my PhD in Electrical Engineering
(eventually the topic comes around to this)
ROG: so when will you be graduating
ARK (with an instant spike in the sweat-gland activity): That might take a while...
ROG (understanding dawning in the bosom of this prototypical member of the fairer sex): Thats OK. You hang in there buddy!

(The first minute over, a little bit of shuffling of limbs happens from both parties concerned before...)
ARK: So the weather is getting good these days, isn't it?
ROG(realizing the lack of a shining armour in this specimen and hence concluding that he is not the one): Yeah...I suppose so
ARK(misreading the clues and almost feeling the extra-strong titanium-lined variant of the aforementioned armour shrouding his muscular torso): Oh yeah. I really love this weather. May might be a bit hotter....oh what the heck. I love you. Marry me. Lets name our kids...
(whistle blows. He has drawn his mother!)
Furious scribbling and a frightful frown seen as I leave the table a heart-broken man. Heart mends. Time heals. In this case, it does heal by the time I go to the next table.

Anyways, to make a long story short, Mr. Romeo here managed to get a 'mutual match' which he is sure he will botch up. More to come soon..!