Inventions/ Innovations against Climate Change
The recession is the best thing to have happened to the world because we’ll get a few years more to tackle climate change.
Here are some inventions/ innovations that might be the answer. I’ll keep updating this list when I come across something. If you know about something that should be on this list, contact me here .
1. The Air Car
I wrote a huge article about this on my older blog. That link is here. Another article I came across is here. Production starts 2010.
2. The NovaTorque motor
Imagine a more efficient, lighter, motor. A motor such as the one NovaTorque have developed would reduce energy consumption in almost every device we know, which in turn would make a huge difference. Production starts this year. The Time magazine article is here.
3. Green Buildings
Buildings are turning eco-friendly. Materials, energy sources, construction methods. Here is an article about it from the Times of India, and this is a neat site about it.
4. The Atmospheric Water condenser
Water from thin air, even in a desert. Need I say more? Here.
5. Domestic Windmills.
We are moving towards decentralized energy production. Domestic windmills and solar panels will powers our homes quite soon, the grid will become history. Or maybe a backup. Here is a site.
6. LEDs
They will light up your rooms, they will become your screens. They will become smaller. They will change the world. LEDs.
This list will be updated from time to time.
3 comments January 4, 2009
December Favorites
Here are my favorite blogs for December 2008 and why I like them (in the order of my discovering them).
This is the wittiest blog I’ve read, very funny, and entertaining. You half forget that anything else exists in this world when you read Jack. My favorite post is “Chapter 14“. He doesn’t seem to have posted anything recently.
Definitely Maybe
Definitely Maybe is updated rarely, but everytime Kenneth write’s something, it touches you. My favorite post is “Strawberry Swing…..“
Cheeky title for a blog but Chittz is awesome. There is a certain sadness in most of her work. What I admire most is her flow. The narration just flows. There is no other word for it. My favorite post is “Plastic Christmas Tree“
There is only one word to describe what Goldhawk writes. Brilliant. Her plots are always things you’ve heard of somewhere, but her treatment is brilliant. Favorite post, “Conjuncture“
Foogarky deserves an award for his imagination. His characters are wild. Among all the fiction blogs I’ve read, he is the most different. Favorite post, “The Scene Changer“
Aditya never blasts anything or hold’s anything high. In that way I think he is a very balanced reviewer. And he seems to read prolificly.
Ha ha ha. Arjun must be among the funniest bloggers alive. His style of story telling is anecdotal, you think that these stories may be true. His most recent post however seems to be tragic. My favorite post, “Totally Jammed…!!“
6 comments December 30, 2008
Thrunthi Vaa
Singing (male)
Kaanum Kangal Thanae Vaeru (Isn’t it that only our eyes are different)
Kaanum Katchi Kedayathey (Not the sight we see)
Peesum mozhi thaney vaeru (Isn’t it that only our languages are different)
Pechin ennam kidayaadhe (Not the thought behind our words)
Sellum paathay thanay veru (Isn’t it that only our paths are different)
Nadakkum kaalgal kidayaadhe (Not our walking legs)
Aayunthangal dhaane veru (Isn’t it that only our weapons are different)
Yendhum kaigal kidayaadhe (Not our hands that hold them)
Moodiya kanthira, moodiya kanthira thozha (Open your closed eyes, my friend) x2
Seviyae, Seviyae, Seviyae, koncham kelu ( Ears, Ears, Ears, listen)
Ratha aaril neendhi vetri choodiyadhu yaaru? (Who’s ever won, drenched in blood)
Mozhiyae, Mozhiyae, Mozhiyae, koncham pesu ( Language, Language, Language, speak)
Unnai serayil adakeyyathu yaaru? (Who’s imprisoned you?)
Narration (female)
Aayudhangal eri vanakkam sol (Throw your weapons, say namaste)
Azhi un ratha veri (Destroy your blood lust)
Punnagai kol (Smile)
Singing (Male)
Kathi indri ratham indri (Without weapons, and without blood)
Naadau pala peranthatu (Many countries were born)
Gandhi soona vazhi thozha (Gandhi’s path, my friend)
Unnaku indru marantathu ( You’ve forgotten today)
Moodiya kanthira, moodiya kanthira thozha (Open your closed eyes, my friend) x2
Singing (female)
Aariya maakal azhipathu, veeranuku azhaga (Is it like a warrior to kill innocent people)
Un kuraigala peechal thirpathu thavara (Is it wrong to talk about your grievances )
Puratchi endru Puratchi endru (Calling it a revolution)
Vuyerai parikaathey (don’t take away lives)
Arivu illa peechu ketu (Listening to foolishness)
Vuyerai kodukathey (do’t give away your life)
Singing (male)
Kaanum Kangal Thanae Vaeru (Isn’t it that only our eyes are different)
Kaanum Katchi Kedayathey (Not the sight we see)
Peesum mozhi thaney vaeru (Isn’t it that only our languages are different)
Pechin ennam kidayaadhe (Not the thought behind our words)
Sellum paathay thanay veru (Isn’t it that only our paths are different)
Nadakkum kaalgal kidayaadhe (Not our walking legs)
Aayunthangal dhaane veru (Isn’t it that only our weapons are different)
Yendhum kaigal kidayaadhe (Not our hands that hold them)
Moodiya kanthira, moodiya kanthira thozha (Open your closed eyes, my friend) x2
12 comments December 26, 2008
A blind boy and Rubik’s toy
He held it sacred in his hand,
and fondled it with finger love.
Twisted it madly, almost wrenched,
the colourful plastic cube.
He held it close to his ear,
heard it click beneath his fingers,
smiled at himself while scrambling it again
“I like this” his announced.
“It’s a puzzle” I said, and asked:
“Shall I get you one in braille?”
He held it in front of his vacuous eyelid,
“I think it is more fun this way”
12 comments December 18, 2008
A blind boy with Rubik’s toy
He held it sacred in his hand,
and fondled it with finger love.
Twisted it madly, almost wrenched,
the colourful plastic cube.
He held it close to his ear,
heard it click beneath his fingers,
smiled at himself while scrambling it again
“I like this” his announced.
“It’s a puzzle” I said, and asked:
“Shall I get you one in braille?”
He held it in front of his vacuous eyelid,
“I think it is more fun this way”
3 comments December 18, 2008
Hippie Santa and Rajinikanth
My barber is the kind of man who’d stand out anywhere. He occupies most of his cramped saloon himself, has a mop of hair from the Rajinikanth seventies and laughs like Santa Clause. He has never missed the first day, first show of any Rajini movie till date.
“I am painting thalaivar on my door” he said one day.
I had just entered and was sitting on a plastic chair awaiting my turn, reading a Tamil magazine.
“Where?” I looked at him.
He was sliding a razor across the shaving foam on someone’s face. The guy didn’t seem to care what we were talking about.
“On the door thambi, the shop’s door”
He was going to paint Rajinikanth on his saloon’s door.
“Your thalivar might not like that” I said.
He looked at me like I’d said something stupid. Rajinikanth, had issued a notice long back asking people to stop using his pictures without his consent. He did not like people misusing his image.
I explained all that to hippie Santa.
He paused for a moment inspecting the foam on the other guy’s face.
“It doesn’t matter” he said as he restarted scrapping away the foam. “Who’s going to see anyway?”
The next time I went for a haircut, I saw Rajini on the saloon door. Head held high, the setting sun forming a halo behind his profile, smiling in that innocently narcissistic way that only he can. It was a perfect replica of a famous picture, the one from Thalapathy.
I stood there for a second, admiring the even spread of paint on the glass door and the way it played with the light. Then I opened the door, went in and sat on a plastic chair to wait for my turn.
“How is it thambi?” my barber asked turning away from someone’s hair.
“Really good” I said, smiling. The guy getting his hair cut didn’t seem to mind our talking.
“How much did it cost you?” I asked.
“Nothing”
“Nothing! Who does paintings for free?”
He looked at me like I’d said something stupid, again.
“Rajesh. He is from the fan club”
“Rajini’s fan club?”
Santa nodded.
So much talent was roaming our streets painting free pictures of Rajinikanth. Incredible, India!
“Does he paint other things?”
“He used to paint for movies, on walls, but who needs painters nowadays thambi. Every poster is combuter printed”
I looked at my barber. I looked at the image of Rajini on the glass door, the light coming through. I thought about Rajesh, shrugged, took a Tamil magazine from a plastic chair, and started reading.
3 comments December 14, 2008
Rajini and my barber
My barber is the kind of man who’d stand out anywhere. He occupies most of his cramped saloon himself, has a mop of hair from the Rajinikanth seventies and laughs like Santa Clause. He has never missed the first day, first show of any Rajini movie till date.
“I am painting thalaivar on my door” he said one day.
I had just entered and was sitting on a plastic chair awaiting my turn, reading a Tamil magazine.
“Where?” I looked at him.
He was sliding a razor across the shaving foam on someone’s face. The guy didn’t seem to care what we were talking about.
“On the door thambi, the shop’s door”
He was going to paint Rajinikanth on his saloon’s door.
“Your thalivar might not like that” I said.
He looked at me like I’d said something stupid. Rajinikanth, had issued a notice long back asking people to stop using his pictures without his consent. He did not like people misusing his image.
I explained all that to hippie Santa.
He paused for a moment inspecting the foam on the other guy’s face.
“It doesn’t matter” he said as he restarted scrapping away the foam. “Who’s going to see anyway?”
The next time I went for a haircut, I saw Rajini on the saloon door. Head held high, the setting sun forming a halo behind his profile, smiling in that innocently narcissistic way that only he can. It was a perfect replica of a famous picture, the one from Thalapathy.
I stood there for a second, admiring the even spread of paint on the glass door and the way it played with the light. Then I opened the door, went in and sat on a plastic chair to wait for my turn.
“How is it thambi?” my barber asked turning away from someone’s hair.
“Really good” I said, smiling. The guy getting his hair cut didn’t seem to mind our talking.
“How much did it cost you?” I asked.
“Nothing”
“Nothing! Who does paintings for free?”
He looked at me like I’d said something stupid, again.
“Rajesh. He is from the fan club”
“Rajini’s fan club?”
Santa nodded.
So much talent was roaming our streets painting free pictures of Rajinikanth. Incredible, India!
“Does he paint other things?”
“He used to paint for movies, on walls, but who needs painters nowadays thambi. Every poster is combuter printed”
I looked at my barber. I looked at the image of Rajini on the glass door, the light coming through. I thought about Rajesh, shrugged, took a Tamil magazine from a plastic chair, and started reading.
6 comments December 14, 2008
Kannavu
Oru kannavai eduthu kannil veythu nadanthen (I saw my dream in front of me as I walked)
Athil kanda katchi ellam, kandu veyanthen (I was amazed by what I saw)
Vaanam parthu nadanthu (Walking, whilst looking at the sky)
Kal thaduki velunthen (I tripped on a stone, and fell down)
Kanner sinthi thudaithu (wiping tears from my eyes)
Meendum ezhanthu nadanthen (I started walking again)
9 comments December 9, 2008
Blogging Mp3s
If you’re in the situation I was in some time back – trying to post Poetic on my blog – you are confused. I’ll tell you how I managed to do it finally (ha!, anything can be done for free on the net).
I’ll explain the situation i was in first.
1. I did not want a pod cast, because managing multiple email accounts, a couple of blogs, a youtube profile, etc, becomes complex and frustrating. A pod cast will just make it even more so. Moreover, I don’t upload frequently.
2. I didn’t want to download free plugins. I didn’t have my own server to install it on anyway.
3. I wanted a simple single line – single file – player.
4. I needed a free mp3 host.
The page for the mp3 player code I used (html – compatible with blogger, and probably wordpress posts) is here.
The page for uploading your mp3s and getting a link is here.
Tell me if you face any problems.
3 comments December 6, 2008
Poetic – a guitar solo
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This is a guitar solo I performed. Check it out. The style of guitar playing is ‘karna’. That’s the term I’ve coined for “making the guitar sound karna-tic”.
5 comments December 5, 2008
Rubik’s true colors
I like how it feels light, yet solid in my hands.
I like its even, checkered surface,
I twist it, twist it, again and again,
to hear it click beneath my fingers.
I play at this madly sectioned cube,
and its corners and edges, collapse and depart,
in rapid incessant succession, just like,
its center seems to be lost, found, again.
They tell me it is a riot of colors,
waiting to be set straight.
They tell me it teases their brain-
Is it more fun that way?
8 comments November 14, 2008
Bharath Kishore is at it again!
The latest Bharath Kishore origami piece is an Ellipsoid. It is magnifique.
Bharath Kishore's latest work
2 comments November 11, 2008
Weird #1
Ants in your ears
Ever had tiny red ants go into your ears?
I woke up, in the middle of the night with a throbbing feeling deep inside my left ear. My god, it hurt!. I didn’t know what to do. I mean what do you do?
I realized what it was only when the ant, or ants, (“Hurry Hurry excursions to Kaber’s ears. Yes you can bite all you want. No carrying home any wax please”) started trickling out of my ear.
More weird stuff to follow
Ears + Ants = Arghhhh!
1 comment November 11, 2008
I-Internet #1
Hi,
Do you have multiple accounts with google? Multiple accounts on wordpress, facebook, youtube… The list goes on doesn’t it? I discovered (rather late) that there is Flock.
Now you can integrate your multiple email accounts, blog accounts.
I’ll tell you something I’ve always wanted to have, a collective internet experience.
If I could view all my emails at one place, my messages from different social networking sites at the same place, and blog to all my blogs from the same place, and yet be using multiple accounts, and service providers, I would be floating 
The problem is there are way too many services and accounts that I want a master password, but then if someone hacks into my master password, ah, well I don’t want a master password anymore.
Even the most popular of account integration services like OpenID are not really where they can be.
Flock come closest to what a perfect window to the web will be, except that you can’t use your flock from any where around the web.
I an currently experimenting with myvidoop.com (I can act like I found it out my self, but I just noticed it on the openId website) and I’ll tell you how I like it soon
Oh, and Google is good.
Cheers
Kaber
2 comments November 9, 2008
Changes
Hello,
I changed the theme today. It is plain, white and simpler to navigate. Bigger fonts too. Also I’ve registered accounts at .co.nr and freehostia to build a better website for my music and writing, I will be blogging here too. Also I am going to start reviewing blogs/websites that I like and eliminate the blog roll altogether.
Visit http://kaber-vasuki.co.nr if you’d like
Cheers
Kaber
1 comment November 6, 2008
Haiku #2
Her Hair
by Kaber Vasuki
Maybe the wind blows
To her hair’s tune, but I see,
Quite the opposite.
1 comment November 3, 2008
Haiku#1
Morning sun
by Kaber Vasuki
Is my new morning
A conquest of the day sun, or
A trail of the night?
1 comment November 3, 2008
Raman’s Fish
Hi,
The following is a poem called ‘Raman’s Fish’ which is metaphor on how people are self centered in this world.
Raman’s Fish
by Kaber Vasuki
You are made of a thousand clouds,
And yet you are always one.
You stay in the backdrop and show us the sun,
There is only water all the time around me
Sometimes I am covered by slime sometimes by seaweed
You are the sky. You are the sky
I am just a fish in the sea.
You are the sky to me, because you make the water blue
You are the sky to me, because you make the water blue
Cheers
Kaber
3 comments November 3, 2008
Squeak, squeak…………
Hi,
This post has a short story I wrote about five years back, when I was fifteen.
Squeak Squeak..
by Kaber Vasuki
“Ding Dong” the clock in the living room struck twelve. My mother was on a midnight prowl of the house. It wasn’t normal for my mother to walk around the house in the dead of the night, but tonight was not like all the other nights. Tonight was different. There was a rat in the house.
“Wake up, wake up it is here”. Her voice streaked through out the house stabbing fear in our hearts. There was a soft sound of dirty paws on a dirtier carpet. We all awoke; my father with anxiety got up and started to search for his specs. My grandpa with his scientific approach to every problem, started to bait the rat in a mouse trap with a piece of rotten onion. My grandma started praying for the capture of the elusive rat. My uncle prepared himself, with a broomstick. My aunt had a bucket of water ready to drown the enemy in. My mother had already equipped herself with a dustpan. My sisters and I took high perch on the table. My father had now found his specs in the bath room. “Alright rat, come out!” he said folding his dhoti. The battle was ready to begin. The enemy however was not to be found.
After a few minutes of waiting my father got bored “Where is that rat. There is no rat. It was only you and your false alarms”.
“Oh!” said my mother “If you had placed the mouse-stick under the door, this would never have happened.” (For the information of the reader: The mouse-stick was an ingenious innovation by my grandfather. It consisted of two lengths of thin P.V.C pipe bound together by a large amount of cello tape, which tape I could have used for more practical purposes like mending my torn kite. This was used to block the gap under the main door through which, my imaginative mother had hypothesised that rats entered the house).
“Yes Anna, you are very careless” my uncle added his bit.
“Am I responsible? You misplaced the mouse-stick.” My father was trying to reason.
“Now what about the onion, wouldn’t it draw the rat.” My grandpa was asking himself.
“Om guruvaurappa. All of you stop chattering and search for the mouse” my grandma said. My sisters had already started a game of ‘oh caterpillar’ (which involved chanting an irritating poem and slapping your hands with that of your partner till both were red). Only my aunt and I were searching for the rat. Me, due to the fear that it might climb up the table (you never know do you?). And my aunt due to her sense of duty. Amid all the confusion and my grandpa changing the bait for the fifth time, a soft sound was heard. A small head emerged from under the table. “Squeak”. “The rat! The rat” I shouted. My father, my mother and all the other soldiers of our army started the chase. The chanting of my grandma got louder. My grandpa was congratulating himself for having found the perfect bait. My sisters stopped their chanting to watch the action. The rat ran up and down the room, my father chasing it with his finger pointing at it. Uncle, mother, and aunt were involved in chasing the rat. “Here!” yelled my father “No, no there!” .After what seemed like a few hours, they finally caught it. Finding this as an excuse my sisters started to bellow from the bottom of their stomach “Yea………”. “Drown it!” I shouted trying in vain to outdo their yelling. The rat was brought to the bucket, hanging upside down by the tail from my father’s hand. “Oh what a sin you are committing” said grandma. “Let it go outside”. And thus the rat was saved. We carried it out to the nearby play ground and let it free.
Cheers
Kaber
Add comment November 3, 2008
