This is a humble haranguing of our insufficient education system. Being a final year Engineering student directly translates my limited privileges to uninterrupted and undisputed bunking [unless it is network security which I really should NOT bunk anymore!!] for moments of luxurious rapid eye movement. Therefore when such an anticipated session is relegated most unceremoniously to the back-lanes, and is replaced by a highly disconcerting assembly of two mortals, none of who can quite comprehend the other...I have every right to vent my frustrations in this one-act writing!
Scene 1: I have recently procured the cable required to FINALLY connect to the internet. However such banalities [IP addresses, port numbers et al] are beyond my scope of registry. So I am left fiddling with my desktop trying very desperately to catch any word that might make an iota of sense to us academically-deficient individuals. And incidentally I happen to be a final year I.T. student!! I run to the matron to track down the elusive internet fellows, who with much urgency in their voice inform me that they are in the net-tracker room. Eh? 'Fourth floor!', they insist and point. 'Fourth floor?', I desist and sprint.
Scene 2: I reach the net-tracker room, which is a 30x20 feet cubicle and has this massive contraption with a voluminous mess of cables which instantly silences me into forced seriousness. i mumble something more about the inefficiency of Mission-connect-XIII-block, and less about my affected ineptitude. I am asked to enter the IP address and port number[!!] and report back with any progress.
Scene 3: I report back with no such thing.
Scene 4: I am asked to check whether or not the DHCP has been activated automatically. I stare at the fellow's face as I am transported back to 5th semester. With razor-sharp precision however, bugs bunny imposes on my reverie and I decide to trudge back to my room without making some necessary clarifications!
Scene 5: After going click-happy for a decidedly wasteful amount of time, I make some rudimentary calls to my Comp gurus. I talk at an excited pace about TCP/IP, lan settings...[when in doubt talk fast, few will bother deciphering, and fewer will realise you know S-Q-U-A-T]. I am asked to perform a ping operation. 'Destination host unreachable' flashes at a rate of twice a second, and my computer goes A-W-O-L. I start screaming ‘Virus!’ at a spanking frequency that puts any previous records to shame.
Scene 6: I enter screaming into the net-tracker room. The fellow agrees to escort me back to my room.
Scene 7: My friend is in retreated stages of undress behind the door. I warn her about the imminent arrival of our friend who for some inexplicable reason assumes an air of chaste dementia and refuses to step into the room. We communicate at a reasonable distance of 20 feet from each other, while my friend stands, fully clothed now with a vacuous expression on her face. After a five minute exchange and no headway, my friend wonders aloud at this apparent insanity and retires to watch Munna-bhai MBBS. The fellow shakes his head and assures me that he shall return in half an hour.
Scene 8: It's been two hours now and there is no sign of the fellow. But five minutes back my computer was connected to the World Wide Web.
Maybe the guy did something, maybe he did not. Maybe lady luck decided to be kind. Or maybe just maybe, what transpired in the last 3 hours was a very accurate mapping of our educational system. I study, I mug, I regurgitate, a semester down I have no idea what DHCP even is! But funnily enough it all just works out fine ;-)
Scene 1: I have recently procured the cable required to FINALLY connect to the internet. However such banalities [IP addresses, port numbers et al] are beyond my scope of registry. So I am left fiddling with my desktop trying very desperately to catch any word that might make an iota of sense to us academically-deficient individuals. And incidentally I happen to be a final year I.T. student!! I run to the matron to track down the elusive internet fellows, who with much urgency in their voice inform me that they are in the net-tracker room. Eh? 'Fourth floor!', they insist and point. 'Fourth floor?', I desist and sprint.
Scene 2: I reach the net-tracker room, which is a 30x20 feet cubicle and has this massive contraption with a voluminous mess of cables which instantly silences me into forced seriousness. i mumble something more about the inefficiency of Mission-connect-XIII-block, and less about my affected ineptitude. I am asked to enter the IP address and port number[!!] and report back with any progress.
Scene 3: I report back with no such thing.
Scene 4: I am asked to check whether or not the DHCP has been activated automatically. I stare at the fellow's face as I am transported back to 5th semester. With razor-sharp precision however, bugs bunny imposes on my reverie and I decide to trudge back to my room without making some necessary clarifications!
Scene 5: After going click-happy for a decidedly wasteful amount of time, I make some rudimentary calls to my Comp gurus. I talk at an excited pace about TCP/IP, lan settings...[when in doubt talk fast, few will bother deciphering, and fewer will realise you know S-Q-U-A-T]. I am asked to perform a ping operation. 'Destination host unreachable' flashes at a rate of twice a second, and my computer goes A-W-O-L. I start screaming ‘Virus!’ at a spanking frequency that puts any previous records to shame.
Scene 6: I enter screaming into the net-tracker room. The fellow agrees to escort me back to my room.
Scene 7: My friend is in retreated stages of undress behind the door. I warn her about the imminent arrival of our friend who for some inexplicable reason assumes an air of chaste dementia and refuses to step into the room. We communicate at a reasonable distance of 20 feet from each other, while my friend stands, fully clothed now with a vacuous expression on her face. After a five minute exchange and no headway, my friend wonders aloud at this apparent insanity and retires to watch Munna-bhai MBBS. The fellow shakes his head and assures me that he shall return in half an hour.
Scene 8: It's been two hours now and there is no sign of the fellow. But five minutes back my computer was connected to the World Wide Web.
Maybe the guy did something, maybe he did not. Maybe lady luck decided to be kind. Or maybe just maybe, what transpired in the last 3 hours was a very accurate mapping of our educational system. I study, I mug, I regurgitate, a semester down I have no idea what DHCP even is! But funnily enough it all just works out fine ;-)
