Valfi, Mom Arrives, and my CTARA Final Presentation: Apr 6 to Apr 13

On April 7^th, the evening started with the semifinal round of the IFL (Institute Football League) cup. My team, Bayern Munich, played a tough 0-0 match with Barcelona, eventually losing 5-4 on PK’s. I played keeper during the PKs; I was close to blocking a couple but could not quite get to them. I made mine, though only due to a mistake on the Barcelona keeper’s part. But of course no one will remember my kick because it went in—thus is the memory of sports. The game was the most fun Bayern Munich game I played in, and I am glad the season ended on a positive note, even if we lost.

Later that night, the Hostel 12 valfi (end-of-year fancy dinner) took place. I went with Sumit, but I saw most of the people I know from Hostel 12 and my own Hostel 13 at the valfi; everyone was there enjoying the great food. The event was held outside in a large grassy area behind the A wing of Hostel 12, which previously I had only noticed as “the grassy area that is not used for anything.” Now I know its function: to host large parties once or twice a year. Decorations of colored lights, colored sand drawings on the entrance to the hostel, and colored lanterns hung from the trees adorned the valfi area as well as much of the Hostel 12 buildings. It was beautiful and deserved a few pictures when seen at night. The valfi food was extra-special and included fresh fruit, mango juice, many types of veg and non-veg sabjis, freshly made breads of all kinds, and multiple desserts. It was all self-serve and unlimited, so I of course had my fill; the food was orders of magnitude better than a standard meal in the mess. When the hostels put their heart into the food for valfi, they do not disappoint.

After the valfi dinner celebration came the “real” valfi, or public roasting, separated by department. Each department gathers after the fancy dinner to publicly roast its graduating students. One person from the department sits on a throne on a small stage while the rest give him their worst, complete with stories, videos, and pictures gathered over the years. Unfortunately most of the roasting at the CTARA valfi was done in Hindi, so I only stayed for a little while before heading to bed around 1:00am. The valfi went on until the not-so-wee hours of the morning.

In the evening on April 8^th, I went to pick up my mom from the airport. I am very happy that she had the chance to come visit me in India for 11 days to see what the country is like and have some great food. While waiting for her to make it through customs, I bought a bottle of water from a café, balked at the outrageous Rs. 60 price. This is three times more than normal. I looked at the bottle and found that the same strategy was used by this café as was used by the water-sellers in the Imagica theme park: only carry expensive brands of water. As everything in India must be sold at the MRP, or maximum retail price, the only way to make more money by selling water is either to sell more expensive brands. If these brands are the only ones available, what choice do I have except to buy it? For some reason, this seems more reasonable than the strategy at US airports and theme parks, which consists of simply raising prices on the exact same goods. I grudgingly bought the bottle, thinking I would save half of it for my mom when she arrived, but nearly finished it while pacing back and forth for about an hour in front of the terminal exit. After her arrival, we squished her two suitcases and back pack into a rickshaw that took us back to the IIT Bombay guest house, where my mom would stay for the first five nights of her trip. During our ride in the rickshaw, she was pointing out many things on the ride that I have become accustomed to somewhat glazing over when I watch the scenery go by. Listening to her make comments about the cows, churches, potato vendors, and dogs reminded me of my first three weeks or so in India this January; I was fascinated by everything I saw. But this fascination takes lots of energy, and eventually, for better or for worse, mine has degraded over time to more occasional observations as I have put more of my time and energy into my work and relationships here on campus.

The next day, my mom was surprisingly energetic so she went on a self-guided tour of the neighborhood surrounding the IIT campus, buying all kinds of gifts that caught her eye. In the afternoon, we went out again to the local train station, the grocery store, and the local Galleria shopping center to try some great guava and mango ice creams. We had dinner in Gulmohar, the restaurant on campus, with Sumit and Shilpa. My favorite part of the dinner was the sizzling brownie, a brownie with ice cream served on a fajita-style hot plate, fudge sauce poured over the brownie so it sizzles for more than a minute.

On the 10^th, we ventured downtown to do some souvenir shopping in the Colaba district, a popular tourist shopping destination that I have visited on each of my previous trips to India. During our shopping, we stopped by a fabric store that had some gorgeous, supposedly 350-year-old shawls. We initially went in because it looked reasonably cool inside but stayed quite a while looking at the shawls. We ended up eating a great lunch at the Leopold Café, a restaurant made famous because of its target during a 2008 terrorist attack in downtown Mumbai. Bullet holes are still visible in the concrete walls and pillars. The restaurant is now a popular destination for western tourists, its walls adorned with a mix of movie and musical posters (Scarface, Bob Marley, etc.).

On the 11^th, my mom went downtown for a city tour. She asked the young tour guide quite a few questions, as usual, and got some great pictures. I stayed on campus to work on my final presentation for the department, which was scheduled for the following afternoon. In addition to the questions my mom asked about the Mumbai tour, she also probed about the construction happening at an incredible pace in the IIT guest house. Her room was one of the last that had not yet begun renovation; all around, workers were taking out furniture, ripping up flooring, putting up new plaster, and painting. Every day in the lobby of the guest house there was a different set of furniture which was being auctioned off on a daily basis.

The day of my final presentation for CTARA had finally come; about 20 students, including my closest friends in the program, and two faculty members came to watch my talk. I presented for about half an hour on my three projects (solar roaster development, spice factory energy audit, and turmeric processing) and my learnings from CTARA. It was great to have an audience with whom to share my work; I would be happy to show my presentation to any of my readers I see in the states during the summer or the fall. The attendees of my presentation were especially happy to find out that my mom had brought home-baked cookies to enjoy after my presentation had ended. One student said “you should have advertised the cookies—many more people probably would have come.” The same rule holds true in the US as in India: free food draws a large crowd of students.

In the evening, my mom and I went shopping for gifts in a mall a few kilometers from campus then went to dinner with Sumit, Shilpa, and Shilpa’s brother Abhishek at a restaurant called The Village. The restaurant was decorated as if it was an Indian village; different areas like the “beauty parlor” and the “jail” had different types of food. It was a great chance for my mom to try lots of food like pani puri and pav bhaji that she had been somewhat hesitant to eat on the street to this point. The restaurant was complete with dress-up wigs and royalty hats. There was also a bangle-maker demonstrating his craft who was amazing to watch. He heated colored gum pastes from a pepul tree (relative of the fig tree), then rolled them together in interesting designs and folded a small copper ring inside for support. We watched as he made many bracelets, then finally had to return to our food so that we would have enough time to eat. It was a great evening to end a successful day.

On the 13^th, my mom and I left for Aurangabad via train after eating lunch in my mess with Akshay and Shahnawaz. Our train ride was a short 7 hours; our time was passed talking to the interesting characters in our cabin. My mom was quick with questions about all sorts of topics like garbage, plastic bottles, and sewer pipes (related to one of the men’s work). One guy was convinced that my mom secretly worked for an NGO and was not a “baker” because of her knowledge on these various topics. The highlight of the ride might have been watching them open a jar of green chili pickles. The first man had tried to peel off the quality seal on the jar, but had been hesitant because he did not want it to spray all over his clothing. The second man, impatient, grabbed the jar and proceeded to poke it open with his finger, spraying yellow pickle oil all over his short-sleeve linen shirt. The first guy cracked up. When we reached Aurangabad around midnight, my friend working on the container house at MIT Auragnabad picked us up from the train station and dropped us at the guest house for the night.