Of An Annual Event

So, as most of you who’ve been reading this blog religiously (or those who are forced to read it) know, there is this event in my university that is held yearly. The event (henceforth referred to as “the event” for anonymity’s sake) is a time for us to skip classes and work our ass off in order to promote our university’s public perception in the eyes of the world.

Apparently some people didn’t get the memo this year, and this leads me to write a post that can be used as a reminder to future generations how The Event ‘13 failed miserably.

Okay, it didn’t really fail, but Murphy kept shoving his Law in our faces every day we prepared for it.

Now usually, as anyone in my university can attest to, I spend a week before the event making some insane monstrosity that renders me incapable of lending people a helping hand, and makes me a right terror to be near.

Two Years ago, I made the logo out of paper. Sadly I didn’t take into account the overall tension the model would be facing before I hung it from the ceiling of the marquee.

Each ring had an initial diameter of over 6 feet. Then it sagged and well, I’ll spare you guys the gross analogies some people came up with to explain it’s metamorphosis

Last Year, I made our mascot out of Styrofoam (henceforth called “Thermopole” – you’ll see why in a thousand words or so)

A relief model made in two layers, with liberal amounts of glue, tape and paint on all surfaces. I found it funny how considering most of us are engineers in training never thought to create a hot-wire Thermopole cutter to help us shape things. Instead, most people still bother with the candle-and-knife technique. Shame on you, and your rough uneven cuts

This Year, after the brilliant success of last year’s mascot, I was given 10k to make a permanent version of the bleeding robot.

A professor of mine, brilliant and friendly guy, took me to the tool-bazaar to get tools. I discovered certain shops that I never knew existed before now.

Thus began my 6 days into the sawdust filled hell that was our General Engineering Workshop.

Turns out, most people don’t even know where this is, since the administration decided to shove it in a corner where almost no one goes to.

I say almost since some of our desperate denizens have turned the area around it into their secluded “Lover’s Point”

Relax, it’s just a couple of girls.

So, I spent a week in this room, playing with all sorts of power tools and cursing like a sailor.

I turned this:

 

Into this:

To make this (our official event / college mascot):

And stuck it on this (without permission):

Giant 7’ tall mascots made from wood are useless if they don’t light up!

And I signed my name on it as well:

Now, obviously, I stayed the weekend over at university just to finish my work.

The scariest time was decidedly after midnight. Traversing from the workshop to the college is a long walk, in total darkness. The kind that makes your imagination try and scare the shit out of you. I kept hearing hissing noises and rustling bushes. After freaking out the first few times, I got used to it. I already nearly stepped on a frog and kicked a rat as it was.

The hissing and rustling weren’t part of my imagination. They were the machinations of this monstrosity:

We caught this in the morning. And yes, that is a relative of the fearsome Komodo Dragon. Head to hind legs, nearly four feet long. FUCK! I am never ever going to stay overnight in uni again.

All in all, this was another fun experience.

Now I know that I’m old enough to be working and being stuck in a university and prolonging my education is hardly something I would normally get excited over. Thing is, I missed out on a lot of things, and I’d appreciate it if you’d let me have my moment.

Thanks for reading, here’s a smiley face that I created by accident.

Of Escaping Reality

This isn’t a post about drug abuse.

I wish it was, that way I’d be cool. Which is unlikely

It doesn’t take a rocket-scientist to realise that I am quite socially awkward. And my obsession with geeky fandoms doesn’t make things any better.

Look, how do you expect me to be popular when all my conversations have some sort of vague reference to some TV show or comic book.

Statements like “Don’t Blink!” or “I can see your thought bubbles” are met with confusion.

So, I decided to make something for myself. Something I could escape in. Thus began the T.A.R.D.I.S Project.

Let me know if I made any sense up till now.

STEP 1:

Design the entire bloody thing in SolidWorks.

The model has two different colours due to the fact that I am using wood of two different thicknesses. 2.7mm and 1.3mm.

The other reason for designing it in SolidWorks is that rather than measure everything and sketch the parts on wood – thus increasing human error, A simple printout stuck to the surface ensures all my dimensions are correct and proportional.

The third reason? I want to be able to brag to people in uni that I have mastered SolidWorks to a certain extent.

STEP 2:

Cut pieces of wood.

This took a while. The pieces needed to be cut using a scalpel. Precise strokes were needed to keep wood from splitting. The wood in question is Balsa. Light weight, rigid and mouldable.

STEP 3:

T.A.R.D.I.S. Assemble

Joining everything with PVC Glue, followed by last minute sanding and detailing

STEP 4:

Painting

Acrylic Paint, with light sanding between coats to ensure a levelled finish

STEP 5:

The Light

Used a Glue Gun Refill – cut to size, and modelling wire to hold everything in place.

STEP 6:

Decal Duty

High resolution images scaled down (I forgot the dimensions so I checked my SolidWorks design for them) to fit directly onto the panels.

STEP 7:

DONE!

(At the time of posting, the T.A.R.D.I.S. lacks the necessary circuitry to make the light glow in true T.A.R.D.I.S. fashion. I’ll replace this text once I source the parts needed.)

And there you have it. My amazing T.A.R.D.I.S.

Of My Greatest Foe –Thus far

Old houses, specifically those built on reclaimed land, have a problem. Cracks.

When it rains these cracks have a bad habit of allowing water in. Which in turn soaks anything standing flush against the wall.

Chipboard is a poor-man’s plank of wood. It’s made from wood waste like the bark and shavings and whatever; finely chopped, soaked in water followed by squeezing all the water out of the paste, giving you a sheet of reasonably priced wood.

Now due to the process, chipboard loves water. It acts like a sponge; soaking water and inflating to disfiguring proportions.

Which is exactly what happened with my Nani’s (Maternal-Grandma) cupboard.

A couple of days after a particularly wet day, I noticed a huge bulge in her cupboard. It was big enough that the paint covering the wood had split apart.

 

Doesn’t look like much at a glance. However, in my infinite wisdom, I decided to knock on it.

That is where my nightmare truly began.

(And in hindsight, so does this story)

It was a living, breathing, throbbing, pulsating hive of termites. Imagine the scariest sounding insects buzzing when you get near the piece of wood (like they can sense you being there)

Usually I leave these tasks for dad to handle in his unique stumbling way. Yet, considering how I got my ass handed to me a week prior to this event, I would rather cover myself in pesticide and run headfirst into the cupboard than ask Dad for help.

So a day of research, 3 litres of kerosene, a litre of termite killer, a bunch of latex gloves, some surgical masks and a hammer later, I was ready.

My mum gave me specific instructions: Remove only what is necessary. We can’t afford a new cupboard

So began my week of tearing down the cupboard.

1. Take a small chunk out.
2. Spray exposed wood with pesticide mix, liberally.
3. Wait for termites to stop squirming.
4. Go to step 1.

Tearing the wall down bit by bit was annoying. I ended up displaying some more of my infinite wisdom. I started checking which areas were hollow by shoving a small screw driver in with force.

On one such occasion, I might have used excessive force and lo behold, the entire roof fell on my head.

Don’t worry, the wood was pretty much gone, with only about a billion tiny termite larvae in my hair, down my shirt, biting the crap out of me.

Dousing myself in kerosene seemed like a good idea. Followed by a scalding hot shower for an hour.

Finally lost my temper, and armed with the biggest hammer I could find, I tore down the entire cupboard.

Only things salvaged from the cupboard were the front doors, a shelf and the rod used to hang hangers on.

Now for the lesson this teaches us.

NEVER EVER GET CHIPBOARD FURNITURE

See, wood waste used to make chipboard usually contains termite eggs. These eggs need a humid environment to hatch and wreak havoc. Lasani is less prone to getting infested due to the chemical treatment it undergoes.

Thanks for reading this drivel. Termites are not your friends. I am scared of being infested by termites now. Pointless, I know.

Of Seeing Eye to Eye

(Sorry, I thought of something new so I am updating this post)

So this guy went viral a week back.

I checked out his website. Screw the video, screw the wannabe band-wagon jumpers who took so long to get this gem out to the public (which sadly includes me) – what I love about his website is his gallery. He’s like a teenage girl with a dozen albums in which he looks the same with minor differences. I was expecting some career history or something solid. Instead I learned that:

• If you see Taher Shah in a white suit with wild untamed hair, he’s a singer.
• If you see Taher Shah in a black/blue suit with wild untamed hair, he’s a model.
• If you see Taher Shah in either a black/blue suit or a white suit, with his hair pulled back, he’s a professional business man.

So basically, if you were to mute the song completely and just watch the video, it tells you a story. Be warned, this story has some very powerful themes.

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We start off with a singer called Taher, shy of the limelight he’s been thrust into. Notice the faltering steps, and his refusal to look at the camera. He’s a classic example of an unwilling media puppet with a sense of morality, that corporations use to make themselves look good.

Suddenly, business-man-devil who looks exactly like Taher, sends a brief subliminal message to Singer-Taher. This fills him up with confidence and he starts dancing.

He has no idea what satanic verses he’s singing, but the devil’s trickery makes him confident enough to sing without any hesitation.

We come to this brief image. Notice the bars on Singer-Taher. The devil has pretty much captured his soul. And once he has his soul in his fetid grasp, he leeches on and sucks out Singer-Taher’s talent and joins in on the singing.

 

Sure, if he was Nicholas Cage with a flaming skull you all would have gotten the subliminal message just fine. Yet, I have to explain this to you. The things I do for you guys.

Singer Taher is oblivious to the manipulation of the Devil-Taher, who is now cloning his evil essence to try and take over the world. Observe:

(Lets all ignore the fact that the devil looks really… bonga)

What follows is an epic struggle between Good and Evil, light and dark, the forces of artistic freedom and corporate oppression.

And Singer-Taher loses. It is more than evident with his blood-shot eyes and the sad music playing in the background as they fade away. Devil-Taher won. He used such a chutyape ka gaana to infiltrate the hearts and minds of the youth of our country. 

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Now that you’ve read the actual logical analysis of the song. I suggest you go and watch it again. If you find that I missed anything. Please feel free to drop me a comment.

!! LINK TO THE SONG !!

In hindsight. This post was actually supposed to throw you off in the beginning with Taher Shah, and then continue on about what I learned from my past relationships and stuff. Oh well. Some other time.

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So, as any Pakistani worth his salt would tell you, Altaf Hussain is being “targeted” by the British police.

Upon further introspection under a waterfall, I have come to a brilliant conclusion.

Taher Shah is a pawn used by the upper echelons of MQM.

Just hear me out. According to GEO, Taher Shah spent 15 years making this song. He slaved over it, learnt how to use a thesaurus – sort of. He’s the typical masoom-person pursuing his dreams. The underdog. The following table will explain it all.

	Taher Shah	Altaf Hussain
Fat	YES	YES
Has a face like a round vegetable	YES	YES
Bloodshot Eyes	YES	YES
Sandpapery Voice	YES	YES
Pursuing his Dream	YES	YES
Bad Childhood	YES	YES
Likes to Sing	YES	YES
Leader of a political party	YES	NO
One man production house	YES	YES
Thousands love him	YES	YES

There you have it. The similarities between both are remarkably uncanny. The brains in MQM decided to use Taher Shah (obviously a fake personality designed by them) to show the people how their psyche is warped. How they shun and ridicule a man who has done them no harm and who just wanted to sing. How the masses took his dream and stomped on it, crushing his spirit and ruining his chances to become the next Vegetable Idol.

Of The Invasion of Copyright Infringement Proportions

Look at that! I changed my Blog Header.

Every time I look at some random person’s blog, I see that at one point or another most of you have redecorated your blog for some reason or the other

• Maybe it was a mid-life crisis
• Maybe it was to impress a girl/guy who reads your blog
• Maybe it was to attract more readers
• Maybe it was because you were tired of looking at the same lame header staring back at you.

I made this blog during a quarter-life crisis, I don’t feel that there is a need to attract more attention, and I didn’t really get tired of the image. As for the bit about impressing someone, that’s still up in the air.

As some of you may or may not know, I recently changed the layout of my blog. Recently is a relative term. I changed the template a year or so ago. Didn’t like it, stopped blogging. Then I fixed it up, But the header was short…

Do you really want to know the thought process behind it?

Just scroll up and stare at it for a bit. Let the beauty sink in. It took me an entire day just to get it right. Well, I gave up editing it after 10pm today.

So there. New header. Woooo!

I especially like the Potato-Man wearing the Fez. Let me know if you like something.

Of Haram Chocolate

It's too hot to write lengthy bullshit about this. So I'll leave you with just this picture.

Of How To Deal With People…

…Who Annoy You.

Before I begin this educational tutorial, I would like to clarify something. This post, was solely aimed at those people who are either hypocrites, or promoters of religious violence and hate. The rest of you can carry on what you’re doing and I wouldn’t mind in the slightest.

Since Pseudo-Mullahs annoy me the most. I take it upon myself to mess with their heads whenever I am feeling brilliant enough to do so. Normally however, I don’t bother. If they break through my ignorance threshold I’d swear at them and leave.

One incident was so awesome, that really I have to share it with you guys.

Behold. The generic misguided young priest. This guy is pretty much the kind of person who annoys me to the point where my blood boils. He’d come up and tell you “Eating food with Shias, and Aga-Khanis around is worse than eating with your left hand – It’s written in the Quran”

Bullshit Alert.

You ask him for the exact reference, and he asks for a day to go home and check it. Next day he ignores you until you corner him. Then he says, “Sorry, it wasn’t the Quran, it was the Hadees”

Bullshit Alert.

Ask for a reference and the same thing happens. Vanished for a day, came back, ignored, finally cornered and claimed it was something said by the companions of the Prophet.

Yet, that is a part of his core values, which is just messed up if you ask me.

So one fine day, I was enjoying a smoke and he happened to sit nearby and told me that I should control where I exhaled. Dude, I don’t have control over the wind. Yet, I moved away. He complained again, and this time snatched my cigarette and demolished it under his Peshawari Chappal.

So. Since he was just begging for it. I joined his conversation. Just to see if I could confuse him to the point of shutting him up for a while.

Now keep in mind that most of this is purely bullshit. There is a lot of theoretic physics involved. But that’s it.

Miracle Analysis with Physics – 1

Static Electricity produces an attractive or repulsive force in a circular field around it. A common physics experiment is bringing a negatively charged object to a stream of water. The stream bends towards the object. So if we extrapolate the same principle on a much larger scale. Hazrat Musa’s staff wasn’t magical. Just a giant static conductor amongst other things.

Proof? Well, remember how he walked down the floor of the Red Sea with the water parting in front of him and closing behind him. That gives the impression that it was a circular gap. Hence. Proved.

Miracle Analysis with Physics – 2

Now this is complicated. See, deep space experiments have proven that space and time act like a fabric. Time behaves differently dependant on gravity. Since you (the misguided molvi) can’t give me a credible source to save your life, go read The Brief History of Space and Time by Stephen Hawkings. Anyways, in that book, along with countless other scientists, it is possible to create two holes in the fabric of space and time, connect them, and send matter from one end to another. While mass is travelling from one end to the other, time stops, and all the forces applied to the matter continue to act on it when it exits the wormhole. This is the Wormhole Principle.

There is another principle called Teleportation. What happens is, matter is completely scanned and transmitted between two points at the speed of light. The same way a fax is sent. Only, in order to transmit the object, it is broken down into atoms and then sent. So technically, it doesn’t exist until it’s reassembled. For a living thing that is the same as dying.

Now go think about it. Which miracle does this remind you of? The Night of the Mirage.

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Suffice to say, he has never bothered me after that. Nor has he declared me Wajib-ul-Qatal. I think of this as a public service.

I apologise to anyone whom I may have offended. The apology is limited to my first, and my last religious posts. If anything else offends you, quit reading.

EDIT: A friend I showed this post to posed a hypothetical question. “What if, for the sake of argument, the guy you were messing with asked you how these two Prophets came into possession of such technologically advanced items. How will you prove your theory then?

I just looked at him for a few seconds, and then, rather than give a sound logical argument I gave him this:

If Linux-Loving-Atheists can pull this off, why can’t I?

Of Being Surrounded By Impossible Things

This world runs on fixed patterns. You might call it physics or the will of God.

Imagine waking up looking down at your bed. Yeah, you’re on your roof, looking at the world upside down. That’s probably going to freak you out right?

In my experience, electronics end up defying the laws of physics more often that people would like.

For someone as obsessive about his gadgets as I am, this gets a bit harrowing after a while.

In layman terms, a bottle of water cannot contain more than it’s designed capacity. No matter how hard you try you cannot fill a one litre bottle with two litres. At least not in anyway where the water would be useable.

My laptop’s battery broke the laws of physics governing capacity. Observe.

For the layman, the battery should have 5200 units of energy, which would last you 2 hours with normal usage. For some reason, it ended up having 60K more than it should. And going by the new capacity it’s supposed to last for nearly an entire day. It lasts for 15 minutes total.

Well, technically, I am to blame for that. A while back it died. No charge whatsoever. So I did what any self-respecting tech head would do. I mucked around until I could get it to work. Mucking around also involved stabbing it’s contacts with a knife at one point.

Today, my phone’s memory card was giving me problems. So, took it out, plugged it into a reader and checked the specs. I don’t even know how to explain what I saw. So I took a screenshot (and decided to do a blog post about it.)

Yeah. The entire card is a 4GB one. However, just the pictures tat 74 freaking gigs.

This laptop should never have worked. Yet it stayed with me, tolerating my antics for the better part of 2 years.

You know, I think we should have a Zubaida Aapa for Gadgets. Can you imagine how simple life would be if she started giving tech help?

“Agar aap ka computer neeli screen dekha ker band ho jaye, to side ka cover utar ke ek chota panka laga dein aur phir chalaien, Neeli screen nehi aaye gi!”

“Agar aap ki kisi bhi cheez ki rechargeable battery charge na ho, to usko ek theli mein band kerke do ghanton ke leay freeze kerein. Freezer se nikalne ke baad usko room temperature pe aane dein, aur charge kerein. Aap ki battery chal parey gi!”

(I bet most of you read it in her voice didn’t you?)

Of The Second Unmentionable

That’s right ladies and gents. The second part of the unmentionable series is up.

Today we’ll focus on religion. Hide yo’ wife, hide yo’ kids, ‘cause this shit’s gonna get ugly by the time I am done with it.

TO THE RELIGIOUS NUTBAGS:

We all know you love your God. We all believe in one form of higher power or another. The keeper of cosmic balance, Allah, Bhagwan, God, Great Spaghetti Monster, Cuthulu or whatever.

That is unless you are an Atheist internet troll who loves quoting Wikipedia articles and just proving your intellectual superiority. We all know you’re overcompensating. So shut up and keep reading.

I have to deal with Muslims in majority, being a resident of a Muslim country, and being somewhat of a Muslim myself. What I really detest is how everyone with a beard thinks he can tell me about the God I believe in. The fact that you think you know more than anyone else does not justify you to preach. Religion is meant to be between you and your God.

Would you like it if someone with a gigantic penis wrenched your mouth open and shoved it down your throat just to prove that he is indeed well-endowed? Obviously not. There is a time, place and a way to approach such a topic. Yet, most people practice the same amount of delicacy as the aforementioned metaphor.

Do you honestly believe that when the Quran says God will protect his words to man from the hands of evil-doers gives you the right to believe everything that your Imams and Molvis and Sheikhs spout out of their food-holes?

Us Muslims are divided into so many pointless factions, each calling the other one blasphemous JUST BECAUSE THEIR PRIEST SAID SO.

Since you love interpretation so much, here’s a side of logic to go with it.

Do you not agree that Islam teaches us tolerance, and promotes peace?

Where was your tolerance when a newspaper in Norway made that cartoon. People like you stalked and threatened the artist. An artist who was, a woman, not a Muslim, doing her job. It is only natural that people saw you as bullies. Draw Mohammad Day would have never happened if you showed some tolerance. “God is all seeing and will smite the evil doers” remember? Yet some of you have this need to dispense justice by your hands.

Do you not agree that the word of God and the teachings of the Holy Prophet are irrefutable?

Then who gave the priests and imams the right to make their own interpretations. In the last four years I have heard some absolute bullshit. I will not repeat that nonsense out of respect for my friends and readers. Most of this bullshit falls in the questionable practices category. And they usually start with “Since we’re from the same sect, I thought I should tell you something I learned about this other sect which some of your friends follow…” Next thing you know, the sheep start distrusting each other.

You know what the most shameful thing is?

People born into religion are mostly hypocrites. You know what I am talking about. Every one of you know at least one hypocrite.

• The kind of person who appropriately throws Mashallah, Subhanallah and Inshallah while holding a beer in his/her hand.
• The man who is drunk throughout the year. He makes life hell for his kids and his wife, yet has the audacity to become a pious praying machine during Ramzaan. His bottle of vodka gets replaced by the Quran and his glass of ice turns into prayer beads
• The bearded Molvi-sahab who for all intents looks like the most pious person. He hangs out in front of tuition centres leering at the young women exiting the building. And he gets itchy-ball syndrome whenever women pass his field of vision.
• The wannabe Arab. He has no family in Saudi, he loves calling(?) his priest friends over the phone and discuss some interpretation or another in Arabic while in a public setting. (He is also one of the outlets of religious bullshit I mentioned earlier)

At least I know my limitations, and I have the decency not to pretend that I am better than you. It’s time you people should learn a lesson in humility.

Sincerely

A Not-So-Religious-Potato

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If you’re wondering what brought about this rant into creation. I got a little sick of the constant opinions of others I had to listen to in real life. I have my ways to deal with them. Once I get the comics made I’ll put it up (Hey, I know how this sounds but I have people putting external pressure on me so it will get done)

And it’s sad to see that most of the bullshit I have seen personally, happens to be generated by Sunni priests. I mean, enough with the hate. I can be friends with Aga-Khanis, Ahmedis, Shias, and some other religious sect without them trying to force covert me. Or make me kill little babies and fling their entrails to crows.

In fact you know what, I detest the company of my Sunni friends at times. At least the others have the decency to speak politely and appropriately at all times. The Sunnis have no tact.

Last year during a school trip a Deobandi (Thanks KK, for telling me the actual sect) said something horrible in the company of one of the best people I know in uni. A blood-bath might have ensured. If it weren’t for a senior who took matters into his hands and calmly resolved the incident. Both people mentioned were Shia. I trust I’ve made my point.

The only reason I keep portraying Sunnis in a bad light is because only they have the guts to come up to me and tell me how evil another sect is. For you it might not be the same case.  

This isn’t to spark a religious debate. Flames and shit will not be entertained. All I ask you to do is carefully analyse your personality. Ask yourself if you are a hypocrite. If everything you do is by the book. If you’re confused about something, research. Everyone might have different interpretations but if you look hard enough you’ll find one that your heart and soul will be able to accept.

And for the sake of everyone’s sanity, Don’t preach to people who are obviously not interested. I mean, we all can’t go swearing at preachers for ruining our already bad day now can we?

Of Emergency Rooms and Ultrasounds

Yesterday, dearest dad of mine (note sarcasm here – it’s crucial to this post that you note the sarcasm) decided to get sick. Violently sick.

Now, any doctor can tell you that in this heat, and economic recession, it is best if one eats home cooked meals. Meals given by cart vendors are unhygienic to say the least. Food spoils before you can say “Faluda”

The funny thing is. My dad is a doctor himself.

So dad ate some weird kerelas and got ill. His entire digestive system got fucked up. Finally he couldn’t take it and asked Mum to drive him to the emergency room in PNS Shifa.

Now mum doesn’t like to drive alone at night, so naturally, I got dragged along.

We went in at 10pm. Blood tests, ECG and and a battery of other tests were conducted. Finally we had to take him to the other end of the hospital for an ultrasound. Since they gave him a strong painkiller, he was quite delirious. Hence, I got to push him around in a wheelchair.

Let me tell you. I hate it when people in wheelchairs randomly stick their arm out for no particular reason. If you want me to turn left, say so. Don’t stick your hand out in the air. Especially in doorframes.

So, the ultrasound department was down a slope. Me and mum were contemplating on letting the wheelchair go and let dad find his way down himself.

We controlled ourselves. Woke up the ultrasound attendant, and got his ultrasound taken.

Now, being a naturally curious person, I decided to check what the hell showed up on the monitors.

It was 1am, I was tired, and sleepy and hungry and headed towards nicotine withdrawal.

Suddenly, this popped up on the monitors. Right next to the liver was this dancing abomination. I have no idea what it was, but damn it was funny as hell. Apparently the doctor in charge felt that the dancing abomination was important so she took a picture of it.

And here’s the picture.

If anyone has any idea what the hell this is, kindly let me know.