Odds and Ends

The GATE Story - 3

(This is the concluding part of The GATE Story. Please read Part-1 and Part-2 before this.)

Two opportunities down. Sigh.

Early morning on the 12th, I was on the Shatabdi train that would take me out of Kanpur to Delhi. The previous day, when booking my ticket, I had requested the reservation lady for a window seat, so that I could avoid making unnecessary eye-contact with people and have a nice corner to myself. To my horror, I found that the lady had not only ignored my request, but had also given me an aisle seat right below an AC vent, exactly in the middle of the coach, facing half the passengers of the coach, who kept looking at me curiously as I slowly froze to death. I quickly buried my face into the Computer Architecture book, imagining bad things happening to reservation lady. The train staff soon brought a bunch of free newspapers for us to choose from. Since I had paid Rs. 3.50 for my Times of India ten minutes back on the railway platform, I asked for an Indian Express instead, mostly just to wipe my tears with it. The food service was excellent, and my attempts to study were frequently interrupted by the staff bringing me something to eat. By the time I got off the train, I was reasonably well-fed, had seen the Supreme Court dome from the train window and read the same paragraph twelve times.

After the blazing overhead sun thawed me a little, I proceeded to take a prepaid auto to IIT campus. En route, I saw the India Gate and the residences of Sharad Pawar, Ram Vilas Paswan and Shiela Dixit on Janpath. My attempts to see 10 Janpath (Sonia Gandhi's residence) were thwarted by a truck that blocked my view. Pretty soon I had reached the Karakoram hostel of IITD.

At the Karakoram hostel, I encountered some of the most irresponsible people I have ever met. On reaching the hostel office, I was given a bank slip and asked to pay the rent at SBI at the rate of Rs. 140 per day. After standing in the queue for an hour and watching a super-slow cashier age visibly by the time my turn came, I went back to the hostel office only to be told that they were out for lunch. I went back at 3 o' clock, and the staff pushed me away and told me to come at 5 o' clock. Finally at five, I was told that there are no rooms available and that I should sleep in the common room! Tired as I was walking in the hot sun all day in my formal shoes, I completely flipped out and yelled at them politely for five minutes. However I deny that I called them "irresponsible imbeciles", but that could be because I did not know the correct translation in Hindi. Finally, I was asked to "adjust" in the common room for one night and that they would give me a room the next day. Thankfully, I met an SJCE senior in IITD campus, who most kindly accommodated me in his room. He also showed me around the campus. The campus was small and had lots of multi-storeyed buildings. I also had the opportunity of meeting a couple of guys from the Navy and the conversation was very interesting.

The Electrical Department interview the next day went very well. I was asked mostly text book questions on Computer Architecture and Operating Systems, and ten minutes later, I came out with the feeling that I may have just secured my first admit. However my CS admit was still stuck in waiting list and the correct picture would only be clear two days later. I had my ticket to Bangalore that evening, and I decided not to cancel it. I would come back to Delhi on 17th if necessary (Don't judge me, people! I was earning!). As I came to understand, interview for wait-listed candidates was only a formality.

One last thing needed to be done. I had paid the stupid hostel guys for four days of accommodation, so I went there asking them to allot me a room without any payment if I came back on 17th.

Hostel Guy: What? No no. We can't do that. Go away.

Me: Why?

HG: Because we have already written the date on your receipt. We can't do anything once it's written. Go away.

Me: Eh? But you never gave me a room on that date.

HG:

Me:

HG: Uhh, I'll ask my boss.

The senior guy angrily said that no alterations could be done on such solid legal devices as hand-written receipts, and that I was blaming them unnecessarily. I then calmly gave a long speech, the gist of which was, "Sir, I am not blaming you. I'm just saying it's all your fault", after which he was convinced (confused?) and agreed to give me a room with no additional payment if I swore I would not eat their hostel food. I had no problems with that.

The SpiceJet flight to Bangalore was three hours late, so I hung around IITD campus for a little longer and left in the evening. The departure terminal of the Delhi airport was bigger and had lots of shops compared to Bangalore. I had more than a couple of hours before my flight, so I whiled away my time doing some window shopping. The most interesting thing I saw at the airport was a drinking water fountain which I tried to use and twisted my neck badly. I backed away quickly before I made a bigger fool of myself.

After a delay of almost three and a half hours, I was finally on the flight. The captain was remarkably honest, and said the delay was because of "late arrival of aircraft". The initial journey was far from smooth, and the aircraft shook and dipped alarmingly a few times. I smartly guessed that the cause was "turbulence". The guy next to me had a different explanation. "Maybe a girl is driving it", he said and laughed at his own joke. I pretended to laugh with him, but secretly added "sexist strangers on airplanes" to the categories of people who annoy me. A few minutes later the seatbelt sign was off, and the captain explained that there had been turbulence shortly after takeoff (see?). Halfway through the journey, the pilot announced that we could see the city of Bhopal on the left. I concluded that the pilot was telling the truth, because I was sitting on the right side and there was certainly no Bhopal there! We landed in Bangalore at about midnight.

Next day, IIT Madras put up its list of selected students for MTech in Computer Science and I had made it. Just like that. Direct admission. Total anti-climax. It was like watching How I Met Your Mother for ten seasons, only to find out that there WAS no mother and that the kids were adopted. Still, it was a welcome anti-climax. My acceptance along with original GATE scorecard was supposed to reach IITM in a week, so I decided not to go back to Delhi. In retrospect, it wasn't the best decision, because IITD probably offered more courses to my liking than IITM. Still, I had to prepare for the MSc (Engg) interviews at IISc, arguably the toughest in the PG admission circuit, and I needed time for that.

I got calls for MSc (Engg) from all places I applied in IISc - CSA, SERC and CEDT. SERC and CEDT calls were on the same day, same slot. But since I wasn't that interested in CEDT, I didn't bother to reschedule either and just concentrated on getting through the other two. My first interview was in CSA and the second in SERC that same afternoon. The CSA test was simple enough with questions on basic math and programming. The test was not used to shortlist candidates, and all were interviewed anyway. The interview was not a disaster, but it wasn't spectacular either. I struggled with algorithm analysis and needed a lot of prodding from the panel to help me along. I thought I did architecture decently, but overall, I doubted if my performance was enough to see me through.

So, now only one call remained. SERC. Back to the same place with which we started our story. As expected there was a small written test for half an hour with questions on maths and programming. I got at least four out of five correct and was not surprised when I was shortlisted for the interview. However there were a lot of candidates before me, so it was 7 o' clock in the evening when my turn finally came. And then, over the next forty minutes, I gave the best interview of my life. The panel recognized that I had come before and started off by asking questions I had admitted to not having answered the last time. Somehow, I was completely relaxed this time around. It was a very interesting interview, with the panel wanting to know how I would analyze different designs in architecture. In the end, I had answered/analyzed practically every question asked of me, and knew I had a solid chance of getting through this one. In fact, I was even asked why I was applying for masters and not for direct PhD.

A couple of weeks later, the final results were announced. I had made it. It was a long, tiring process, but it was worth going through. Since research at IISc was consistent with why I wrote GATE in the first place, I cancelled my admission at IITM and finished the initial formalities at IISc. I also declined the admission offer for the Electrical Department CT course at IITD.

Looking back at the whole thing, I feel I have been incredibly lucky. There was a time, December-January I think, that I felt there was a genuine chance that GATE this year would be a major disaster. Coming from there to here has been quite unbelievable. True, I did screw up a couple of opportunities, but everything went well when it mattered. Lots of things could have gone wrong in those, but in the end, none of them did.

And a thousand thanks to God for that.

Epilogue:

With all the joining day formalities done, I was finally a student of IISc. But one thing remained. I had picked up an SBI form for opening a bank account from where the joining process was going on, but did not have all the required documents, so today I went to IISc with the filled application form and marched into the Bank Manager's cabin and said, "I want to open a Savings account". The Manager looked at me strangely and said, "But you have an SBI form with you!"

That's when I realized I was inside Canara Bank.

Homework: When was the last time you laughed at your own foolishness?

The GATE Story - 2

(You've read Part-1, no?)

So. Where were we? Ah yes. I had just blown my first chance at IISc, right?

Well, things started getting complicated a few days later. Up north, I had three calls. One for test/interview at IIT Kanpur on 11th May, then two days later one interview on 13th at IIT Delhi for the Computer Technology course (EE dept.) and on 17th, an interview at CSE-IITD. For this last one, I was also put on waiting list for direct admission on the basis of my GATE score + UG performance. To add even more confusion, if my admission wasn't confirmed by 15th, I was supposed to attend interview on 17th. Quite obviously, this caused major confusion in booking tickets. Add to that the fluctuating prices of air tickets and coordinating train journey to Kanpur, and it will come as no surprise that I spent most of my time finalizing my travel plans. Finally I booked my return ticket on 13th itself, and decided that I would reschedule in case I had to stay back at Delhi for four more days.

A day before my journey -

Dad: So, all prepared for the trip?

Me: Yes, yes. Everything is done. Except for the studying.

Dad: ...

So there I was the next morning, on board the Go Air flight, thoroughly satisfied with how things had gone so far (free newspaper at the airport and a nice window seat on the plane). My own impression of myself as a moderately intelligent person took a severe beating when I had to ask the girl next to me to help me with my seat-belt. But then, so did the guy on the aisle seat (presumably her husband) and my pride was restored somewhat.  Meanwhile, in the seat in front, two youngsters were happily taking pictures of themselves on their cellphones. Pfft. First timers, I thought smugly. Suddenly the plane started rolling down the runway and I squealed in excitement.

No matter what people say about air travel, it is my opinion that flying is the most exciting form of transport, simply because of the precision required to make flying safe, and because humans had no business giving competition to birds in the first place. As I gazed out of the window, my mind was filled with questions like, "What kind of instruments do they use inside the cockpit?", "How is the testing done for the computer systems on board?", "How do they decide on the wingspan?", and most importantly, "Are they going to give us free water bottles?"

I made a few observations on board the airplane. Firstly, I decided to never ever try skydiving, no matter what people think of me. Secondly, reading Finite Automata and Formal Languages on an airplane is just as boring as it is on the ground. Thirdly, the little lakes down on the ground look like broken pieces of a mirror, and look particularly beautiful when the sun is reflected off of them briefly. And finally, you know how the sky seems to bend down and meet the earth at the horizon? On air, I observed that, in the distance the earth seems to be curving up and meeting the sky. So I guess the earth and the sky meet in the sky too. Whatever that means.

More than two-and-a-half hours into the flight, the pilot announced that we would be reaching Delhi soon. And sure enough, I could see the city below. So, this was Delhi, the place with the Supreme Court and Parliament and India Gate, I thought excitedly. But five minutes later, we had flown right past the city and I realized that wasn't Delhi at all! I settled back in my seat trying to look cool again.

The airplane story needs one last mention. These low-cost airliners have such crappy legrooms, it is impossible to change your sitting style without suffering hip dislocation. In fact, I had to do a triple somersault over the seat-belt couple to get to the aisle when I had to use the bathroom. And when we were about to land, the pilot asked us to pull up our seats back from recline. Unfortunately, mine was stuck in the reclining position, so I put my hand behind my seat to pull it back and ended up groping the leg of a female passenger sitting behind me. Most thankfully, she seemed to realize that I was a decent guy and chose not to slap me.

We finally landed in Delhi. The plane taxied for what seemed like 25 kilometres before we finally reached the terminal. "Delhi! At last!", I thought and stepped out of the airplane. And instantly melted into a semi-solid blob. Man! Delhi was hot! My first thought was that we had landed in Chennai by mistake. And the whole idea of me being so far away after just a three hour journey seemed a little phony anyway. I claimed my luggage and took a government taxi to the New Delhi railway station, where a train would take me to Kanpur.

The ride to the railway station was pleasant, save for the fact that the taxi driver made me listen to the same Punjabi song three times. Being in Delhi, I wanted to try some authentic North Indian food, so I went to the IRCTC cafe and immediately ordered masala dosa. When in Rome, be a South Indian, right? I spent the next four hours on the platform, where the only interesting thing was the railway announcer who sounded suspiciously like Farhan Akhtar, and spoke English with a fake American accent, leading to much amusement. Finally in the evening, my Shatabdi arrived to take me to Kanpur.

The Shatabdi ride was most pleasant. I had been on the Shatabdi before, on the Mysore-Chennai route, but this experience was much much better. The coach was brand new, the AC very comfortable, the velvety seats had smooth recline and the excellent IRCTC staff kept me well fed and watered. Surely this was the only way to travel in a train. However, a delayed Rajdhani, which is at the top of the food chain, stalled my train, and we reached Kanpur an hour late. A quick auto ride later, I was at Hall of Residence - 5, IIT Kanpur. The polite hostel staff alloted me accommodation. I slept off hoping the test would go well the next day.

En route to my test venue, I noticed that the IITK campus was huge and built beautifully, with most buildings following a common colour scheme, giving the campus the impression of being very well planned. The test was supposed to be three hours long with all questions being of multiple choice. But half way into the test, I could tell with supreme confidence that I would NOT get shortlisted. Half of the paper was general aptitude and puzzles and the other half was algorithm analysis, all of which I was rubbish at. I sort of got the feeling that IITK didn't want any systems student at all! The test went very badly and I thought that the only way I would get through was if everyone else in the hall was a bigger idiot than I was. Which was very unlikely.

That afternoon, they put up the list and sure enough, my name wasn't there. This meant I was stuck in Kanpur the next day because I had booked my ticket to Delhi two days later, in anticipation of being shortlisted for interviews the next day. Since there was no point in sticking around, I got my ticket cancelled, and booked a Shatabdi for the next morning itself, thinking that would give me enough time for a decent shot at the Electrical department interview at IIT Delhi.

So with two opportunities gone, will I ever get back my confidence? Will I have better luck in IIT Delhi? Will I get a decent seat anywhere (other than on the Shatabdi and the return flight)? Will I survive the murderous North India heat? And will any reader want to read Part-3 of this never-ending story?

For answers to these and many such intriguing questions, stay tuned.

(Concluded in The GATE Story-3)

The GATE Story - 1

Now that the whole circus of PG admissions is behind me, I can finally sit back and write a detailed account of my GATE story. The whole thing starts with last year, when, due to shockingly poor time management, I got a dismal 800-something rank in GATE and was staring at one full wasted year. Add to that, I made some stupid mistakes in application forms (like applying for TA instead of RA at IITB) and chose to not apply for research programs at any place other than IISc. As it turned out, I did indeed get a call for test/interview at SERC, IISc. I got through the written test, but the interview was such a disaster that I must not have looked any more intelligent than your average potted plant. I came out of the interview hall feeling like the Mayor of Loserville, painfully aware that my only hope for PG in 2009 was an utter flop.

A couple of months later, I finally decided to wash away my tears of sadness with the sweat of hard work (ha!) and earnestly began preparation for GATE-2010, reading as many as two pages per day. But as luck would have it, I was extremely busy at work during the prime months for GATE preparation (November to January), working till late at nights in the office and during weekends. And just like that, I was at the beginning of February, with my head feeling unpleasantly empty and almost all of my engineering syllabus to be studied, cursing myself that I did not take up further studies seriously in my final year.

Before we go into February, let me produce a fictitious conversation at a fictitious meeting among GATE committee members, a few days before the brochure was printed:

M1: So, guys, what can we do to torture students this year? Any ideas?

M2: I know! Let's change the format of the paper! AGAIN!

M3: Excellent! And let's add a General Aptitude section!

M4: Let's remove the concept of percentiles and make all of them feel like losers when the results come out!

M5: Great ideas gentlemen! We can do all of that. But I have the best idea of them all! Let's have GATE on Valentine's Day!

M1, M2, M3, M4: (applause)

Yes, GATE was scheduled on Valentine's Day this time. So on a day when all the "committed" guys were planning on going out on dates with their girlfriends and when all the single guys were planning to call their best looking female friends out for lunch in the hope that the Rama Sene guys would catch them and marry them off, I was to be found woken up at 5 AM, groggy with  barely two hours of sleep, yelling insane things like "B-Trees! I forgot to read B-Trees! Ayyo!"

Once in the exam hall, I was relieved to see that the question paper was not heart-shaped and that the room was not decorated with pink balloons (I had secretly decided to jump off the building if it were so). I found the paper itself quite manageable and took care to skip questions that I thought would take a lot of time. Indeed, when the exam finished I thought I had done reasonably well and even remember singing aloud on the way home, causing my fellow motorists to look at me with suspicion and alarm. I even resisted throwing garbage at passing couples.

I got a rude shock later that evening when I realized I had answered one of the questions inadvertently considering counting semaphores instead of binary semaphores (this stupidity would eventually cost me around 35 ranks). But the rest of the paper was mostly correct and I estimated a worst case marks of at least 51/100 which meant this year wasn't a complete fiasco after all.

Happily, a month later, when the results came, I found that I had gotten AIR 185, scoring 57.67/100 with a GATE score of 841/1000, which was the best I could hope for given the circumstances. I quickly calculated that I would get one or two direct admits and test/interview calls at practically all places I apply.

I quickly applied for course programs at IISc (CSA, SSA, SERC, CEDT), IITB, IITK, IITM and IITD. I even applied for a few electrical department courses wherever applicable. Quite expectedly, I got a call for written test/interview for MTech in Computational Science and Electronics Design and Technology at IISc. Both the tests were on the same day, so I quickly took a call to skip the CEDT test (I figured I wouldn't join it even if I got through, so why bother?). Given that I had performed so poorly in the SERC interview last year, I went with furious determination to get through the Computational Science program.

I did not even get shortlisted.

Quite strangely, I was a little bit relieved that I did not get through. Maybe it was because Computational Science was not what I wanted to do and if I had gotten it, I would have probably taken the easy way out and chucked all other offers. However, this meant that I would have to travel to Kanpur and Delhi and try to get through those.

The North India trip was quite an experience, but I shall continue it in a separate post. Do come back!

(Continued in The GATE Story - 2)

Not a Bachelor much longer!

If you read that title and thought that some hare-brained girl with rather poor judgement has agreed to marry me, then you are greatly mistaken. This post is just an announcement of my post-graduate study plans.

From early-August this year, I shall be quitting my cushy and comfortable job in the corporate world (I have a very nice chair at work) and will be jumping head-first into the crazy world of classrooms, labs and research at the Indian Institute of Science, Bangalore. It is a Masters-by-Research programme called MSc(Engg) at the Supercomputer Education and Research Centre at IISc. The last few months have been crazy and I am happy to have made it. I will be going back to college after a full three years, so wish me luck!

PS:

1. A detailed post of my past three months' adventure will follow. Hopefully.

2. On a completely unrelated note, I am now the uncle of a baby boy! He's tiny and cute and much like his uncle, words like "extreme handsomeness" are being used to describe him (I am serious! Why are you laughing?).  So, now that I have been "uncleified",  I guess I am no longer allowed to snarl at random kids on the street who call me "uncle". Sigh.

Haircut

Weekends are a great time for personal achievements outside of work. Like writing a kernel. Or discovering a new radioactive element. Or writing a poem. Or, as in my case, getting a haircut.

• Wanted to try this new place. It seemed to have a good ambiance, and its staff wore uniforms. Sure they spelled "Gents" with a J, but I am not expecting them to have a PhD in English anyway.
• The place was full. 6 people were waiting. "10 minutes, sir" said the barber and beckoned me inside. I walked in thinking this guy at least had a sense of humour.
• The customers seemed to be spending a lot of time on the chair. One guy in particular, got a haircut, a shave, an oil massage, a face massage and a facial done to him. I wondered whether this guy had a rich uncle who had recently died.
• The staff ordered tea and offered it to all the waiting customers. Touched as I was with this unprecedented act of courtesy, I politely said no, owing to the fact that the floor was full of other people's hair and the fan was on full blast.
• After an hour, my turn finally came. I turned to the other waiting customers, laughed maniacally and said, "Ha! Take that you losers!". But not out loud.
• Meanwhile the guy with the dead rich uncle was getting his face steamed. What a girl.
• Took the chair and looked at my face in the mirror and thought that my hair was really not that long. Should have let it grow for a week longer. Oh well, too late now.
• During the water spray, a drop of water landed on my nose and it started twitching.  The barber noticed this and grabbed a tissue and wiped my entire face. I was overcome with emotion at his thoughtfulness, but held back the tears as I didn't want to trouble the great man again.
• Very talented guy he was. With just a few snips, he made my hair look really really good. Even my parents would agree later that I looked almost human.
• Came home and blogged about it, all the while vaguely wondering why anyone would want to read this nonsense.

The Creator

It was not good news. The helper wondered how he would ever be able to convey it. Of course, it wasn't the first time he was breaking a bad news. He had done it many times before. But not a news this bad. Not that he was afraid. He had nothing to fear from The Creator. After all, the Creator had helped them tide many such difficulties before. And yet, the helper wondered whether He would be able to do it this time. The Creator had immense powers, no doubt, but the helper knew He never interfered in someone's fate. Not even His own.

"My Lord", the helper began, but the Creator cut him off. "How close are they?", He asked.

"Very close, My Lord. It's only a matter of hours now. And then, they will know everything."

The Creator did not reply. There was no sign of any emotion in His face. The Creator rarely showed emotion, but even if He was disturbed ever so slightly at the devastating news, He did not betray it.

"They will know everything, My Lord", the helper went on, " the secrets of all your creations. The beginning of the Universe. The origin of all life. The reason for their existence. Even the future. They'll be able to predict their future without a doubt!"

"Yes. So they will", replied the Creator.

"But how did all this happen, My Lord? How did they come so close to finding out? You did not create the universe that way, My Lord, certainly not the way they will say you did!"

"No, I didn't. But does it matter? All those equations are just their way of interpreting my creations. Interpretations do not matter. Truth does." The helper tried to argue, but the Creator went on, "You see, the reason all this happened is because I created the human mind this way. I gave them the power to think. To reason. To imagine. To believe in my creations. To believe in me. Most of all, to believe in themselves. And it is this creation of mine that will bring about our end."

The helper gasped. "Our end? Surely not, My Lord?"

"What do you think will happen when all of the world's mysteries are solved? When all of the world's secrets are discovered? When everyone knows exactly what is going to happen in the next second? When they finally understand why something happens the way it does? Do you think people will see My hand in things anymore? Do you think anyone will believe in My existence anymore?"

The helper seemed to be searching for a way to counter this. "But My Lord, how does it matter what people believe?"

"It matters a lot more than you think. It is time I told you something I have never told you before. You think I created them? Has it ever occurred to you that it is them that created Me? That it was their belief in Me that made My existence possible? That it was their inability to explain the mysteries of the universe and their insecurity about their future that made Me possible? That we are just a result of their imagination? That when I say I created something, it is in fact, all in their beliefs that I created it? That we are only as real as they believe us to be?"

"My Lord!", the helper cried, " how can we be not real? We.. we.. exist!"

The Creator gave him a kind look. "But my dear helper, how would you know if you were indeed just an imagination?"

A distant cry of triumph reached their ears. The Creator and his helper watched from far away as a young scientist screamed and danced in celebration. They watched him soak in the joy of being the first to discover the truth. They watched as he rushed to announce his discovery. They watched as he, in his excitement tripped over a loose carpet and tumbled down the staircase. They watched as he fell, head first, onto the floor. They watched as he lay, his neck bent at an impossible angle, clearly dead, with the joy on his face still clearly visible, though now mingled with expressions of horror. Whether the horror was of his own sudden death, or of the loss of the precious knowledge present only within him, they couldn't tell.

A shadow of a smile appeared on the Creator's face. "We live another day", He said.

FM Radio : A quest

Here's a question : How difficult is it to buy an FM radio set in Bangalore if you are in the Indiranagar area? Not easy at all, I've concluded after spending over three hours looking for one.

It all began when I realised one day the reason my house was so quiet. It was because the good folk at Motorola had forgotten to put an FM radio receiver into my L6. That was when I decided that a nice radio would liven up my 10PM to midnight slot well. My requirements were simple really:

1. It must have a speaker built in to blare out music loud enough to disturb my neighbours.
2. It must draw AC power. I didn't fancy changing batteries every Friday at 10:21PM.

And so I set off, thinking it would be an easy task, since I was surrounded by dozens of electronics shops all of them eagerly waiting for the knight who would come to rescue his, er, radio. I couldn't have been more wrong.

The guys at the first shop (for want of a better word, let's call them salesmen) were busy watching cricket on one of their indecently large plasma TVs and paid no more attention to me than they would if I were a tree stump. One of them finally looked up during a commercial break and told me they didn't sell such things as radios. The second shop didn't seem to know what radios were and the third tried to sell me a thing that could play CDs, audio cassettes, video cassettes, DVDs, and wash your clothes and cook your food, with an FM receiver thoughtfully built in, so you can enjoy the music while the thingummy washes your clothes or cooks your food or, well, plays some other music.

It was the same story with the other shops as well, with salesmen trying to sell me odd devices ranging from ones that could play audio formats not even invented to ones that could separate Uranium-234 from Uranium-238 and ones that could do back-flips and fight space aliens, all with FM receiver built in. Since my requirements didn't exactly specify separation of Uranium isotopes or alien warfare, I patiently explained to the salesman that I didn't want any of those fancy gadgets - I just wanted a simple FM receiver. The salesman grinned, showing all his 29 teeth, probably implying that he had just brushed with an electric toothbrush, oh, with an FM built in of course. That's when I finally understood the problem - radios are no longer sold as stand-alones; they are always built into something else. No wonder I seemed out of place. It was as odd as asking for a lone human hand at a shop that sells full human beings; the hand just can't be purchased like that (I am not sure if it's entirely legal to purchase human beings, so this analogy might not be completely appropriate).

I finally gave up the search. I was too tired to enjoy anything but a good night's sleep anyway.

Epilogue: I finally got what I wanted two days later - not in Bangalore but in Chennai. I am now the proud owner of a Philips Bahadur DL-167. Plays crystal clear sound. Apparently if all you want to buy is a radio, humble Chennai is better than glossy Bangalore.

Meanings of difficult words:

Radio: An electronic device that has a couple of knobs which when turned causes the speaker to produce interesting sounds. For more information, contact your grandpa.

FM: The electronic jiggery-pokery done on sound before it is tossed up in air. Stands for Freaky Magic. (A guy in my office tells me it stands for Frequency Modulation, but don't worry. I think he was only joking.)

Salesmen: The kind folk at shops that do little more than guide you to the next salesman who in turn guides you to the next salesman and so on until you find yourself at the exit.

Electronics store: A store that sells plasma TVs and more plasma TVs. Might even sell ordinary TVs if you go on a lucky day after duly consulting your almanac. Does not sell anything that begins with an R.