Over-reinforced

I did a little bit of civil engineering today, and a few concepts came back to mind. In reinforced concrete structures, where steel rods and concrete are used as parts of composite structure, an over-reinforced structure (which contains more steel than required) is considered more dangerous than under-reinforced ones. Sounds quite unusual. Steel is a strong material, so common sense says that more of it will make a structure strong!!

Consider a person who is externally quite non-responsive, does not react much. More steel. Of course, he or she has a side which is quite receptive, wants to express but is overshadowed by the steel. That’s concrete in an over-reinforced structure.

Now put stress on this person. Steel is strong. And can bear enough stress. However, concrete also has to bear the stress. Now, what happens? Externally he or she keeps a straight face, but internally the concrete side starts to distort. And there is externally no reaction.

This continues, until and unless the concrete fails and a break down occurs. What remains are exposed rods of bent steel that is of no use.

Implosive-ness hurts!! But not much can be done about it.

Whistles

It was dusk. The sky had a saffron tinge that was slowly being engulfed by the grey demon of darkness. The day’s heat was conquered by the spring time breeze, which sent waves of relief through my body. Tinkles of bells could be heard from the distance as Bahus offered their evening prayers to the Gods.

I was roaming about in the platforms of the railway station. Being posted in a small township of Bengal, this was the only entertainment I had. Not a railway officer by choice, the only part of the job I liked was watching the trains whistle by the station. I observed people keenly when a train stopped. Some seemed to be in hurry. Some were equally nonchalant, snoring away in glory as others complained about the scorching heat that plagued this part of the country.

Thoughts broke away in a blow of a whistle. A long distance train was supposedly going to stop in the station. It slowly inched in and stopped with a screech. I looked through the window in front of me.

The person I saw was a lady in her early twenties. She was silent, staring outside the window; but eyeballs focused something far away. She was lost in some thought that made her lips part in the shape of a smile. I stayed breathless as I kept staring towards her face. I felt I had known her for years, and wanted to talk to her. But I could hardly budge.

And in a few minutes, with another whistle that brought me to my senses, the train was gone.

And after that, scanning the trains became daily affair for me. She was bound to come back. And if she does, this time I will not miss the chance. I became impatient, started behaving strangely at home as my thoughts reverberated around that smiling face day and night. And then I saw her again after a fortnight.

The train on return halted at a similar time that day. And there she was in front of my eyes, but this time in a different way. She was in red draperies typical for a bride, with layers of gold ornaments adorning her neck. She had gone to marry and was now returning home after the auspicious occasion.

She was silent, staring outside the window; eyeballs focused on me this time. But her mind hardly registered anything as she was still trying to habituate herself with the new circumstances. I stayed breathless as I kept staring towards her face, until the whistle was blown!

The train moved out of the station slowly, leaving behind layers of smoke that made the evening even darker.

Midnight Musing

As I rest my head on the pillow... and thoughts run in directions unimaginable, I came up with something that can remotely appear to be a poem, but in my broken German. So here is the unchristened poem.

Niemals früher habe ich so was erlebt –
Wenn das Herz sucht nach Mehr,
Weil das Gehirn bringt es unter Kontrolle.

Distanz spielt die Rolle des Teufels -
Zwischen zwei Orten !
Zwischen zwei Herzen!

Eine Großstadt spürt nicht so viele Emotionen,
Wie einen kleinen Zimmer,
Der lang geschlossen ist.

Das Gehirn bleibt gefürchtet!
Und macht das Herz hoffnungslos!
Weil die Emotionen werden langsam kaum spürbar.

After a long time, I felt happy to think in German. That is why I call this blog Kheyal-Khushi.

The Fall

Right now, I am sitting in my room in front of my computer. Its a daily affair and there is nothing special about it. I am sitting on my regular chair, which my mother has named The Hot Seat. What's aberrant is that I have another chair in front of me, on whose upper cushioned-surface, I am resting my right foot, whose ankle is embraced by an ankle-brace.
Well, a silly introduction to express my helplessness because of my injured feet. It hurts, though the pain has abated and at least, unlike last evening, I can walk without resting on my father's shoulder.
I think I must scribble down how it actually took place. It was exactly the place, where the Lower Rowdon Street meets APC Road. I was returning home from the Lafarge centre, peacefully increasing Kolkata's atmospheric pollution. I was walking with two friends, one among them was searching for Lower Rowdon Street. Its a shame that all 4 of us are Kolkatans by birth, and are equally ignorant about its whereabouts. After much interrogation and conversations with equally knowledged roadside sellers, we found our destination.
Now, just as I was stepping down from the about-a-foot-high footpath, something happened. I misstepped on a loose stone block lying on the road, and sprained my leg. After a few fractional seconds of free fall, i found myself on my knees and palms. All my limbs got abrasions. I tried to stand up; ouch!!! That did hurt. I could not stand on my right feet, as it was sprained. With the help of my friends, I got up, somehow crossed the roads and took a taxi to home.
An evening full of pain followed. My father feared a minor fracture in ankle, but as things have improved today, I must consider myself most lucky. Still, I must take a couple of days off for total recovery. Till then, I am busy watching movies, downloading and orkutting.

The CCD lesson

I am again writing after a couple of days. Last sunday was like hell. I walked around some ten or twelve kilometers. Upon that came a shock when I went to a CCD outlet to chill out. I am a miser at heart and never spend bucks on such expensive stuff. I went inside and ordered one Frappe. Well, the waiter muttered something to me, which I didnot understand a bit, but still affirmed so that I do not potray my lack of knowledge. The result was tasty and costly. My Frappe came with a chunk of vanilla ice cream and which was priced at a hefty eighty six rupees plus taxes. And, I must point out, that I hardly had that much money with me. Had not Nilanjan been there, I would have gotten a few punches on my face.
I have made up my mind. Next time I visit the CCD outlet, I will rather go for a cappuchino.