From: ramesh@henry.ece.cmu.edu (Mahadevan Ramesh)
Subject: COW UPDATE FROM COLORADO
Organization: Electrical and Computer Engineering, Carnegie Mellon
Date: Sun, 30 Aug 1992 23:09:30 GMT


                       COW UPDATE FROM COLORADO
                       -----------------------

Till recently, I had only half a million cousins in the USA.
Last week changed all that, with the arrival of cousins Mahesh
and Ganesh from India. I am serious. Independent sources can
confirm this. Mahesh will join U. of Penn, Mech Engg. and
Ganesh, the brother of Suresh, will join Something College of
City University, New York for MBA. Folks, feel free to 'orient'
them if you run into them. But this post isn't about them. 

This post is about the recent preparedness of the Colorado
team vs cow. The season is almost about to begin.

----------------------------------

The first time I met Rajan Parrikar was when India was getting
thrashed by West Indies in World Cup cricket, after having
consumed countless beers. He is truly 'erudite' (I had always
wanted to use this word since my GRE days !) about music and his
interests are not limited to just Hindustani classical music,
but also to Thyagaraja and Ilayaraja.  When I met him the other
day, there was a cow near us ! 

That was during the 'India Day' arranged by the Hare Krishna
folks. (The local desi population in this area hasn't yet
reached a critical mass to organize 'India days') The cow was a
part of making people aware of vegetarianism. They probably
rented the cow from one of the nearby farms on an hourly basis.
As you may already know, we have many, many farms near where I
live. In fact, when we get out of work, we go straight to the
farms and milk cows. These farms not only have cows, but also
have horses and even llamas. (There is even a llama here named
Dalai) Oops, I am digressing.

That cow was an udderly massive animal, unlike its cousins in
India. Two colonies of sparrows could easily play football on
its back. People were allowed to 'pet' it and it was enjoying
every minute of the attention, giving nonchalant looks, as if
someone else was getting petted. It looked a little tickled at
times, perhaps because some guys may have petted its erogenous
zones by mistake. Its tail seemed to have a life of its own,
swatting flies non-stop. I too went near and touched it
gingerly. The cow gave me a cold look through its peripheral
vision. As if possessed by devil, I had this incredible urge to
tip the cow, like what Manu ('Njan') had mentioned. But the
damned animal was firmly anchored on all its four feet. Also, I
realized that if the cow would 'tip', then I would 'pit', i.e
'tip' in the opposite direction, to conserve linear and other
momenta. I perished the thought instantly. Since then, I have
been trying to assemble the 'Dream team of Colorado SCIers' for
the sport of 'Cow Tipping'.

With a little persuasion, Rajan agreed to join the team. "But
don't tell anyone on the Rec.Music.India.Classical" was his only
precondition. The next person on our team is Paul Chamanoor. I
met him only last week. Self, like many of you, simply love his
posts. They have a certain logic-defying impishness about them.
We met for lunch at one of these pseudo-European cafes.  Paul,
alias Icarus, had scotch-taped his wings and could not even
handle the sizzle of chicken fajitas. Either he was a slow eater
or a fast talker or both. By the time he was on story number
232, he was only on the second piece of chicken. I had already
stuffed my face quite well in the meantime and flushed it down
with several coffees. When he was on the next story, in walked
one of the vice presidents of our company with eleven of his
family members and sat in one of the nearby tables, kind of
inhibiting me.  When Paul left us (to go to the church, of
course) we agreed to get together next time, under the
influence, near an unsuspecting cow.

Up the highway, an hour away, lives Kannan Subramaniam. I have
known him even before he made a single post on the net. His
first person, singular stories, whether on the net or in first
person, are always fun. If his first passion is hiking in the
mountains, his second passion is passion itself. (Also known as
'hiking with women'). Let me not delve into Woody Allenesque
privacy-invading, although it is he who started it all and told
the whole world about the seven remote controls in my
entertainment system.    

He is also a P. G. Wodehouse trivial pursuee. During one of the
dinners, he discovered that someone else at the table was also a
Wodehouse fan and dueled with him all evening with questions
like "What is Jeeves' middle name ?" "How many aunts did Psmith
have ?" "Who is the Emperor of Blandings ?" They matched each
other trivium for trivium. Till I butted in, unable to
contribute anything to the conversation and confessed to being a
neo-illiterate. I had read just one Wodehouse novel all my life.
"Which one ?" asked Kannan. I replied "The frozen assets", at
which point, Kannan's face contorted and he was stunned. He, the
biggest Wodehousian of all, had not read this Wodehouse opus.
Somebody else at the table also spoke up and said "Yes, I too
have read the 'Frozen assets'. It was a great book, I must say".
Kannan went paler than the Raita on the table. The one book that
he missed reading was read by several Wodehouse non-fans. If we
hadn't restrained him, he would have darted out to the nearest
library the next instant in search of this book, to complete his
Wodehouse education. Folks, he may be asking around one of you
by email, if your library has it. Don't yield to his friendly
persuasions. Don't help him find this book. Let us slowly drive
him nuts and get him all fired up to lead our team, against 'em
cows. 

Yes. The Colorado gang is for real. (Even though I use Carnegie
Mellon account) I intend to meet Manu and M. Ramesh of Denver
(What a nice name !) and enroll them. I also know where Syed
Mustafa lives.

And Veeramany Sthanumurthy, eat your heart out. And I was in
Minnesota just this morning, at the Mall of America in
Minneapolis, no less - parked at the Indiana level in the East
Parking lot. No kidding.





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