Another tiring day. We work so hard, and yet, our pay masters, they let out laughs in the air, and pay us with scorns, and taunts.

The day begins at 8am.

Early morning by weekend standards. The plan was to reach the university at half past nine. A good breakfast, an amazing shower with that menthol shampoo, and some compulsive room tidying. Ten fifteen, that’s when I reach my university.

When it is as late as this, the whole traffic scene changes, as if another play, directed by some foreign director has started. The school kids are now much younger, kindergarten, or maybe nursery. They are crying to get back home, but their parents see the ‘doctor’ coming soon, so they push the tender hearts into their schools, sobbing, and looking weak carrying their tiny bags.

The beggars change. A more active looking one works at the intersection. She has a suspicious walk, and does not have this inner drive to beg. She is just going through the motions. There is no real begging.

My group mate at the University, Azeem is present. He looks at his watch, (which by the way, has dead dials, a feature which makes the watch look more like a magnetic compass, and less a time machine). In a bored down tone, he educates me, “You are one hour and fifteen minutes late.”

I apologise. Like always.

Ubaid is sitting beside him. He asks me to fill his autograph book, since we all shall be parting ways come December. I had a lot to write about him, his childish self in the first year, to the more persuasive, and more successful guy of today. He has had his bad days with us, but today, we are, in a passive friendship. Not too close, but still, friends.

Work begins in the computer lab

Azeem and I run up to the computer lab to start our Project work: Hydraulic design of Khairpur-Larkana bridge. Its our final year project. Its plagued with one too many illnesses. As bad as HIV-AIDS. There’s illness. Then there are solutions, and then there are many baby problems, which later grow up to become the epic monster problems.

The first three months of our project were spent understanding what we were doing. Another three months at getting our University people understanding this project, and then the last three doing some work. Hence we are here, at the nine month, with little or no work to show. Its like we have been banging our heads at the wall with only our heads bleeding but the wall not moving an inch.

Mission impossible. Interruptions.

Nevertheless, we can’t lose hope. We spent an hour writing up what we had done. Then there was an interruption. I had to leave for a meeting with my class fellows, which would then culminate into a meeting with the chairman of the department. We had to discuss the Finances of the Farewell party for our last year at NED university. I was a part of the team, because of my writing skills, plus my excellent repertoire at the Chairman office.

An hours meeting. I sketched down the finances, neatly, on a piece of paper, and off we went to the Chairman’s office. It usually takes a few tries, until we get a chance to meet our Chairman. He is usually busy in meetings.

From 2011 09 15 Presentations meeting et al

Three tries, and finally, we were into the Chairman’s office. Just the two of us: myself, and the impeccable, Usama Fareed. The Chairman scrolled through our balance sheet. He said that we were spending an astounding amount on just the dinner (PKR 90 000). Instead, he said, if we went with the “Refreshments” only, then the financial situation could come under control. I told him that the farewell party was called Annual Dinner, and hence, a good dinner was an integral part of the event.

He let out a laugh, “Hah, a name. It can be changed.” (Annual Refreshment, anyone).

So what we needed was some PKR 80 000, which, after considering the amount we will be getting from juniors, and colleagues, will make the financial situation net positive.

Our Chairman looked at our Sponsorship letter, and tariff sheet for the event. He said that the tariff plan was trashy, “No wonder you have got no company sponsoring you.”

Usama added in, “Its also because we belong to Urban & Infrastructure Engineering, and not some old, recognized field of engineering.” Our Chairman disagreed. He said that this should not be the case, because instead ours is the more attractive field. The one toward which people should be attracted naturally.

Finally, he said, that the Urban Forum team may help us in the sponsorship of the event. Something around PKR 15,000.

The math

Consider that, and the amount the department gives for the event each year, PKR 15,000, and we only need to get PKR 50 000 from the outside world.

Earlier, during the calculation, Arsalan was suggesting, “Increase the overhead cost to PKR 20000. Who knows, we might run short of cash in the end.” I told him we would be behind bars, serving embezzlement convictions, and shame. We had a good laugh.

Finally, I returned to the work. Our final year Project. Ali had also arrived earlier. We typed out the procedures we had conducted on Global Mapper, and then it was time to leave.

A very tricky situation

I asked Ali to wait in for me, as I visited the washroom. As I squatted, just as I had done the day before, some thing fell into the water closet. Yesterday, it was my mp3 player, where I thanked God that it was not my phone. Today, it was my smart phone in there, in the filth.

Its tricky situation. The first reaction on hearing the sound of something dropping is to jump up and stare in shock, and a second later, the hand is in the worst imaginable place. No words to define the disgust, the loss.

Now here comes the confusion: What do I with the phone? The first step was obvious; to remove the battery. I did that.

And now, the urge to wash clean the phone, and then the resistance. And finally coming out with shame. Looking for a piece of cloth to clean the mess all over the phone. Finding none.

The phone is currently drying at the roof top. Just twenty four more hours of drying and we shall see if the thing still works. If I was a phone that dropped so low, I would have died by now. Any ways, lets keep our fingers crossed.

Ali and I reached home. My father, who was to help us with our Final year project was busy in another meeting. Hence, we kept typing, and then, finally, we returned to the university to get our pay cheques.

From 2011 09 15 Presentations meeting et al

No finish line to celebrate

Not so fast buddy, said our teacher. “Just one page of typing! That’s it.” Our master was not impressed, but he should have realised that it takes around three to four hours of hard thinking to type that just one page. He said that he shall go through our report only when there was substantial progress.

Azeem (left), and Ali (right) celebrating the finish of the analysis part of the project. From 2011 09 27 Cricket fever

Installation error!

He then inquired as to how we installed ArcGIS on our computers. I said that we had it installed from my father’s office, where some computer guy spent hours installing it. Apparently, my teacher, was not listening.

He opened up his netbook, and said, “Here, see, mine is not working.” I said, that there were two issues, one with his computer, which was a netbook, a slow atom processor, and second, the software was to be installed with much care, and this was not an easy thing to do.

I thought I was going to help him on this one, but our relationship just went from bad to worse.

“The problem with you is that you don’t listen. You have your own yap to make, always.” I agreed to some extent; I do prejudge situations. It helps me analyze things in a more efficient way. Although, the chances of error are ten percent.

The problem was that my teacher called a cracked software, a Registered software. He said that he had a registered version of ArcGIS, which was not. The second problem was his tiny computer. I hate netbooks, and my hatred shone through my tone, as I told him that his computer was not adequate to run ArcGIS.

He was furious. We left.

How about starting the day, when half of it is gone. Four in the evening. My so called ‘good morning’. I had spent last night: reading, and solving stuff; engineering stuff. Going through Schaum’s outline, and then, Soil mechanics, and some problems from the last class.

I wake up, feeling lazy, and useless. Its a crazy routine that I have created. I hate to live it.

Enough.

Lets wake up to reality. Let us take things the way they are. So, after wasting a few hours, first in hunger, (since my mother had nothing cooked for me), then on the bed. Staring at the ceiling, while listening to the radio. Flipping channels at a frequency of 0.5Hz. I finally rise.

I take a long, hot shower. The hot water burning my scalp.

More water. This time, for the garden. The news from the greenland (my garden) is that the grass is not growing. Only a half of my garden is covered with grass. The rest, died off last year. We were lazy gardeners, then. You know what it means, when the greens lose their glow. It implies negative growth. The journey to extinction begins.

I don’t know whom to blame this time. The grass has been cared for; I have watered them. Things looked good initially, but now, its all gloomy. Maybe, its that huge, mango tree, drying out the grass. Taking away both sunlight, and water. Taking away more than its fare share.

On the plus side: this year, we shall be getting lots of mangoes.

Entertainment

I return from the park. Junaid is busy watching cricket. Sri Lanka vs Canada. He is actually in a state of extreme boredom. Do we care, who wins today?

Finally, Junaid tunes into Atv. Its airing a soap. Yet another, conspiracy ridden story. A sigh of relief. Its a thousand times better than watching Sri Lanka pelt Canadian bowlers; where the Canadian team is actually a pack tired looking, South Asian immigrants.

The drama continues: one woman conspiring against another. I take to my books, but start with the more interesting part of my work: designing a shirt for Final year. We shall be leaving our university, next semester. The shirt shall be our souvenir. Names of our classmates at the back, and “Urban engineer” logo on the front.

An hour of study follows. I focused on Soil Mechanics.

My game

I shall be taking trials for our department’s table tennis team. I am the self proclaimed captain of the team. Captain, on the basis of my seniority. Lets hope that we smash our way to the finals, or, in the worst case scenario, at least enjoy being part of the game, and then being knocked out.

Smash.

NED university's students prototype car has been on display outside the auditorium. Had a close look at it. I would say, that its pretty basic.

We also learned that our department-wide T-shirt is under construction.  (Wasn't I suppose to design this one?).

And a meeting with our chairman . .

(Will be updating with more insight on this day once I finish my pending schoolwork. Till then, catch the snapshot, and the story within.)

Snapshots

An earthquake of magnitude 7 struck us. It struck at 1:30am. The epicentre lied in the Quetta belt, hundreds of kilometres away. Did we get the tremors in Karachi? I was dumbfounded. It was around this time while I was surfing the internet. There was not a hint of earth movement. No plate tectonics taking place.

Yet

Yet, when Ali arrives in the evening. He tells me of the horrifying earthquake of last night. And we live, just a kilometre away from each other; 2 minutes drive for a motor biking Ali.

Ali has had a tough night. When the earthquake struck, he was socializing on Facebook. The sofa started shaking. The printer was moving to and fro. He shouted for his two sisters, and his brother, and logged out of facebook. From then onwards, there were hours of panic. They were now on the road, shocked, and scared. The girls weeping.

In a matter of minutes, people started leaving their flats. It was so late in the night, but the road was congested. It was mayhem, all over. That is what Ali saw, that night.

And the News Channels had something to report on (breaking news).

On our side

And what was I doing last night. I was creating a chrome extension, an app to be exact, for our Final year project. Our tasks for the project show on the right, and our research files to the left. The header shows the number of days left.

Download the app here  (22.9 KB)

Today

They say that the earthquake’s going to strike again. Anytime around 11pm to 1am. If it strikes the way it did last night, then I am least bothered.

And then, the day passed. Did nothing much today, except, this blog, and a change in the look of the Urban Engineer’s forum.

Early bird today. Tweet, tweet. Or may be, “Kaw, kaw.” Okay, not that early. It was nine in the morning. So I am not there yet, but at least am moving in the right direction.

Satoshi Kanazawa has some other ideas about early birds.

Grand breakfast. Lots of ‘good wishes’ from Mama and Papa, and I left for NED university, for my exam. I got myself some new pens, and yes, a brand new plastic scale. It is so breakable. How about this: on the last day of my exams, I will break this thing into two. The girls will shriek, the boys shall hush in admiration. Good drama!

It was a really hot afternoon today. My oesophagus went sticky dry today. Three hours remained in the exam. Along with Ali and Azeem, today, we prepared outside the Petroleum department. That is where Usama and company prepare before each test.

We studied hard.

There was peace here; no classmates disturbing us over this numerical or that chart. Just Usama and company studying on their own.

Tanvir was sitting at the far end bench. He wore white shalwar kameez, and looked like a charmed saint. Behind the tree was Rizwan on one side, and Shahbaz on the other. The setup looked hilarious.

The Usama group was boiling with preparation. I was my cheery self. I don’t like to fume my tiny being over each and every test. There are just one too many, and certainly not worth it.

An hour left. Ali advised that we should perform the prayers first. He said, “These prayers shall help us in the test.” I told him that there is no relationship between our success in exams and our religious obligations.

Ah! Nobody gets me.

The test begins.

Soil Mechanics it is. Flashback: I have been studying this subject since last year. Studied from Braja and Das. Got a few concepts, but never learned verbatim. Not even a single line. Doing the parrot bores me.

I can’t sing a song that is French to me, nor can I sing one that doesn’t have a meaning to me.

Derivations. Derivations are absurd lyrics. I can’t, learn them. Therefore, I won’t try.

Problems. I shall solve them sure, but sorry its absurd to learn a complete solution.

Yet this was what this exam was all about. The same problems that we did in class, the exact same, arrive in the exam. And then there are those derivations, and short notes; they give me the killing blow.

I was so dead.

So was Ali. We studied this subject, but never bothered to learn it by heart.

Everybody had a winning smile on their face. They had a grand exam. Kick the books; just learn the problems done in class, and voila!

I am predicting 40 marks for myself; although thirty would not be a shocker as well. As for everybody else, a lot of rote learning, some cheating, and then a little help from the invigilator, they shall be getting sixty and above marks out of the 75 mark test.

How about being at the bottom of the class for not memorising selected problems and derivations.

Section 144

Jail on pillion riding. On the way back home, almost got held at Jauhar intersection, but Ali stopped his bike just in time, so that the Police didn’t see us.

How about being in jail after a bad Soil mechanics test?

Tonight: Loads of music + fun.

So much for the anticipation, the excitement. A full blown boring day.

The match that we were to win today against the Aussies has been lost. The first day of university wasn’t anything to write home about. The friends I was to meet were more engrossed in their own groups.

The new first year was the only glimmer of hope. Their faces were bright, their clothes even brighter. Moving from canteen to department, and then the other way round. Moving with no worries. Must meet them tomorrow, to just check out their energy; our hope.

And, on a brand new academic year, what does the university give us: stale batch of teachers. It is new year people, we want some new faces, not the same old Sir Usher, the Uneb Gazder’s.

I did charity today as well. Then I turned greedy, and turned it into trade. I taught Najeeb the contouring  practicals, and tomorrow, he is to give presentation for my website.

Today’s lesson: The things which excite me, the projects I am crazy about, mean everything to me, and nothing to the rest.

Oh! I missed the Aunty story. Some aunties are so nice to talk to. She was waiting for her son; who was on his first day at university. Aunty asked me where she could find him. As an after thought, she confirmed that I was new first year as well. I showed her my three fingers, and said: “ Third year.” It was the way she talked which was so nice; so polished and sophisticated.