Under My Skin

Liquid Dance

2009-01-29T20:32:00.005+05:30

Slumdog Millionaire- A lot has been said and written about it. I am probably the last one to join the party.

A recent article by Arindam Chaudhri made me write this post. It reads,

"When the West wanted Indians to embrace them and their companies to come to India and capture the lucrative markets, suddenly we had all the Indian women, some very beautiful and some not necessarily so, winning all the Miss Universe and Miss Worlds. Today, they are in a crisis and India is looking unstoppable despite its slums and poverty, and they are losing their businesses to us. Isn’t it the best time to paint India as the Slumdog Millionaire?? All in all, the film is nothing but an endorsement of an erstwhile imperial mindset of the West and its blinkered vision of India. An English master has made an Indian slumdog. Don’t even waste your time watching this film in the theatres. It sucks and there is nothing great in it as a film too."

The whole article can be found here.

Q) Is SM really a great movie?

Ans) A simple story, wonderful cinematography, breathtaking shots, enthralling music, great acting. If these are the ingredients of a good movie, then yeah SM is one. But then its far from great. Beyond its glossy package, its basically a typical Bollywood movie. Orphan brothers, hapless girl in difficult circumstances, evil-brother turning-good-at-end and even a Bollywood dance number. Its filled with cliches. But then the way Boyle has presented all of this is incredible. Within all the violence and adventures, theres one thing that binds this movie. Hope and Love. I watched it twice. :)

Q) Does SM distort the image of India in any way? Does it stereotype all Indians as Slumdogs?

Ans) No it doesnt. The protagonist of the film is from a slum. What do you expect to see? The Raj Bhawan? If I were to make a film on call girls in Florida and show their life throughout the film, it does not mean Floridan girls whores. Perhaps the racy cinematography, much like the City of Gods, makes SM feel like a documentary, but then its not. Its just a work of fiction. Yeah the violence in the children's life was too graphic but then we are not new to violence in slum films are we? Satya, Comapny anyone? As cliched it may seem, India is a diverse country.Where poverty and opportunities live side by side. This film is just about the dark side. If there was no objection to Mira Nair for making "Salaam Bombay", why then the dissing of SM. Is it because an "Westerner" has done so?

Q) If SM had been made by an Indian director, would it have gained the same appreciation?

Ans) Now thats a hypothetical question. I dont think any present Indian director would have been able to do justice to the story. When directors are cash-happy making movies like Golmaal and CC2C, I dont think any Indian director would like to venture towards making a film like this. And we cant blame them, can we? But considering that some exceptional Indian director had made the movie, I dont think the movie would have got all the international acclaim it has got now. But then isnt it natural? I mean, a movie is always made with a select audience in mind. How many regional films have you seen this year, even if they were mind blowing. None? Well, thats because they were not made for you. Similarly, a film by an Indian director would have been made for an Indian audience. Films like Children of Heaven are so popular inspite of being foreign language films because they are that good.

Q) Does the West love to see India as a Third World country? And was this film made to satisfy this morbid pleasure of theirs?

Ans) I dont think so. Yeah, there will be always be some stereotyping. Dont we stereotype the Americans as sex obsessed and morally weak? :P But again, the world has come a long way from seeing India as a land of snake charmers, elephants and slums. I remember a joke I once read on an American website. It read.

"Earlier when my kids didnt eat, I said to them, ' Eat kids, think of the million Indian kids who dont get a morsel'. Now when my grandchildren dont eat, I say, ' Eat kids, think of the million Indian kids who will snatch that morsel from you.'"

Only no American laughs at that joke now.

No reviewer has stated that he loved the movie because it showed India in a poor light. Its a "feel good" film, thats it. And its a shame that people like Arindam are so biased that they not delved into the underlying theme of the film and are just floating at the surface - Slums.

Q) Should we celebrate SM's success?

Ans) A lot of film personalities like Mahesh Bhatt have voiced that we should not celebrate SM's success because it is "their" film. Well I differ. As I said before, SM is basically a Bollywood film at heart. Danny Boyle has done a tremendous job in telling an Indian story in an universal way. A R Rahman has been nominated for 3 Oscars. Nearly the whole cast of the movie is Indian. Freida Pinto, an Indian model is getting worldwide recognition. Many Indians have worked for the movie. Lets celebrate for them. At a time when we brighten up everytime Aish is on the Cannes carpet and everytime Shahrukh rubs shoulders with Tom Cruise, why not celebrate SM's dream run. Atleast I would be the first one to clap if it wins the Oscars. :)

The Re-union

2009-01-23T18:08:00.003+05:30

My name is Payne. Max Payne. They have killed my wife and my newborn daughter. With a double Uzi in my hands, I walk stealthily into the enemy's den. My health bar is nearly empty and I have got just 1 painkiller. Suddenly, I hear a loud noise, like the ring of a mobile phone.

PAUSE

Its Sunny.I reluctantly pick it up.

"Hi wassup?", said an excited voice.

"Hey Sunny, I am into the final stage of the game man. I had really gotten into the character. You better have some good news."

"Hell Yeah. You know whats day after tomorrow?"

"I dont know. Sunday?"

"Day after tomorrow is school reunion, dude. Everybody's gonna come."

"What the... You made me pause Max Payne for a damn reunion. Are you...Hey wait, does that mean,does that mean she's gonna ..."

"Yeah man. She's coming. I confirmed. Thats why I called you."

"You are the best, Sunny. But hey we are still in school. We arent gonna be invited. How..."

"Thats what YOU think." and he cut the phone.

I shut down the computer. Max Payne wont mind. He will understand. I went to my cupboard, took out the small red briefcase. On the top was a card , a Valentine's Day card. In clumsy handwriting, it read, "To Amrita". Yeah, she's the She in the story. But wait, let me just tell you guys about me, the He.

I have just passed my board exams. Yeah tenth boards. No, the results arent out and I am not quite confident they will be good either. I play basketball but my own teammates snatch the ball from me if I keep it for than 5 secs. I tried to get into tennis but they just made me pick up balls. Not quite good on the girl front either. I havent had a girlfriend since...well forever. Girls dont usually come near me. They think its my socks but the guys know its just bad breath.

For a best friend, I have got Sunny. Who in his convoluted way, thinks he is always right. Interestingly, I remember we became good friends over a fight. We were watching some English movie at a friend's house. There was a sex scene by the fire.

"Hey wassup with the guy. Why is he hiding his organ? He shows his ass but he clearly doesnt wanna show his weenie. I guess he is just small. Hell, if I had been in his position,which is a nice one actually, I would have shown the whole world what a big pee-pee looks like. I am large. Ha"

"Thats what YOU think." We stopped talking for a month.

So, the gist- I'm just average in everything. Well, its still good to know that half the guys are below you.

Coming back to Amrita, she was three years my senior at school. And she was really the most beautiful woman I had ever seen man, live ofcourse. Her shining black eyes never resting at one place, her dark hair bouncing as she climbed down those stairs, her wonderful smile as she laughed with her friends.

The briefcase contained every thing I possessed of her. The V Day card which I had never given her, a stack of detention notes signed Volunteer Amrita, her photos taken on a school picnic by Sunny, pretending he was taking my pictures while I gave funny expressions, her poems from our school magazine and many such small things. But below everything was a slam book. It was no ordinary slam book, my friends. Every page of the slam book was different but they were all signed by one person - Amrita. I had to ask all of my friends to get a slam book page signed by her. It wasnt easy. 29 different slam books were filled by all outgoing seniors, just to avoid suspicion. And among all those slam book pages, I chose the ones signed by her. The rest were ofcourse thrown away. So, this slam book I had was a compilation of all those pages.

I had never seen her for over a year. I had heard she was pursuing Medicine, learning more about the ventricles rather than the emotions. I always hid from her, thinking that she would hate the average me. The only time I had faced her was on the Farewell Day, when I gave her a red rose and fled away. But now the time has come to confront her. To say to her how much I like her. Ofcourse I have a definite advantage. I knew her fav color 29 times over. I know what she would do if she were God. This was going to be my day- the day of The Reunion, our reunion.

Fiction. To be continued.

My Days At School Part 1

2008-12-22T18:23:00.008+05:30

With just a semester for me to graduate, I am a bit nostalgic. I decided to write about the wonderful days I had here at NIT Rourkela. But then, I realised it would be incomplete without describing about the exciting days I had at school.

I studied at two schools- HVB and De Paul, in the same city though different from each other in every way. And I guess I have had different experiences at both these schools. So, I have divided this into two parts. This part deals with my life and experiences at my first school- Harobino Vidya Bhavan where I read till class 6th.

HVB was special because-

1) They had a ridiculous uniform. White shirts- RED pants. As the children walked gaily on the streets all uniformed, they looked like mini bandwallahs. Ofcourse, I loved that as red was my fav color at that time and I loved the bands.

2) The canteen was a cement platform around a big Banyan tree where you could barter your paratha-achar with the other guy's bread-omelet.

3) The best of all- We call our teachers 'Aunties'. I spent a good many years explaining that they were more than just teachers to us. They were more like caretakers and it was more of a personal relationship than a professional one. While I was explaining that, I was thinking, "Yeah, whatever but Aunty?" I cant believe that I spent half of my school life calling my teachers Aunty.

4) Hindi was the official language in and out of the class as even some of the teachers spoke funny English.

5)It was my first school and obviously firsts are always special. In the words of one of my friends, I lost my edu-ginity over here. Though I dont remember the first day at school, I know that I cried a lot. Yeah, a lot.

6) My elder brother was in the same school and I blackmailed him whenever I got the opportunity. It was mainly for the remote.

7) I really thought it was the biggest school in town.

8)I made some really great friends here.

My mum says I was so good with alphabets and numbers as a kid that I directly got admitted to the Upper KG. I remember that I was good at maths and weak in rhymes. I tended to get the poems all mixed up. When the black sheep and little stars got mixed up, I remember I was asked to stand up on the bench. But I made such a sorry face that I was asked by the class teacher to sit down within the next five minutes.

While in class 2 or 3, I made some really great friends- Sanat, Subodh, Subhanarayan, Biswajit and our group always stuck together. At the same time, the Adam-Eve competition had started( I dont really know if Adam and Eve competed for something but it sounds nice). There was this group of girls- Rosalin, Sarita, Madhu, Rudrani. I dont know why but I was asked to 'like' one of the girls. Personally, I liked Rosalin cause she had longer hair and also Rosalin sounds a better name than Sarita. (Sorry all Saritas.) But as Sanat 'liked' Rosalin, I had to back out and had to 'like' Sarita. So, these two groups always fought. But we had a nice way to fight. We played. A lot of games were invented. But Name, Place, Animal, Thing and Book Cricket( where you opened any random page of a book and the rightmost digit of the page no was your score) were a hit.

In the evenings, we(minus the girls) played street cricket, roof cricket, indoor cricket, outdoor cricket, every form of cricket conceivable. We went out on our bicycles for rides, sometimes in rain. Birthdays were obviously the most special occasion and we used to have a lot of fun. But somedays, we just sat down at somebody's home and killed time. It was on one such day that somebody asked us to talk with Rosalin over the phone on a dare. Everyone just dialled but when the phone rang twice, they just cut it. Ultimately, it was my turn and I actually talked to her. Unfortunately, her father picked up the phone. I asked for Rosalin, told her my name (she was a bit surprised) and then said that I had to confirm the timetable for mid term exam. The whole time, the time table was in front of me and she knew it. So, the next day, when we had a fight, she just stood and complained that I was calling unneccesarily and disturbing her. I stood up and said defiantly I dont know what she was talking about. In the end, the teacher believed me and said, "Yeah! you cant be sure while talking over the phone but am sure Sunil must not have done it." After the class, Rudrani came up to me and said," We know it was you, Good acting though." That day, I learnt an important lesson and have always used it afterwards - I'm a good liar.

I was a good singer at that time. I remember Shraddha Ma'am(sorry Aunty :( ) would often call me to the front and ask me to sing something. I sang starting from Pankaj Udhas' Ghazals to the latest Bollywood numbers. It was nice singing to the whole class looking bored and probably waiting for me to stop.

But my Good-Boy image was soon dying out. Once I called Sarita something bad( I dont remember what), and I was chided by the same teacher as the Rosalin episode. Sadly, I had to leave that school soon after that incident. The school was very far from my new home and also it was degrading day by day.Now I hear, the school is in dumps. People who dont get admission anywhere join there.

So in class 7th, I made a jump from HVB to De Paul School. My parents were nervous. Would I be able to cope up with the pressures in a bigger school? How would the course change(from CBSE to ICSE ) affect me? But the thing on my mind was - Friends. I will talk about my life at De Paul in the next part.

Tracking down some of my friends at HVB, I found out that some are working, some are studying, some even got married this year(at 20?! My parents need serious counselling).I realise I havent been a good friend all these days. The friends I cared for so much have just become some random anecdotes I write in my blog, some funny nicknames, their faces so blurred in my mind that I have to look at their stupid grins in my school photo album to remember. Sometimes, when I look at those young kids going to school in their colorful uniforms, I ask myslef if I was like them as a kid. Carefree and jovial. Now, everyone just seems to be in a race, running after their unslaked dreams. In this run, some get left behind,some choose different directions. And after sometime, I realise I am all alone. And I havent even realised the dream I was running after. With every passing day, I compromised with some facet of my dream. And in the end, I realised this was not the dream that I always had. But then I compromise for one last time and say this life will do. Perhaps thats why they are called dreams. Never meant to be realised, just meant to be chased and chased.

The Girl Without A Face

2008-12-09T11:17:00.002+05:30

It must be around two years back. I was in class ninth then. The exams were over and the vacations had started. Unusually, it had rained sometime before. A cloudy grey sky and a silent cold breeze were most welcome on a sunny afternoon. The smell of the earth after the rain was intoxicating. The sun after much fight had fallen into oblivion. The leaves were moist and the flowers looked wonderful. I could not remain in the closed confines of my house and went out riding my new bicycle. It was my new-found hobby to 'discover' new roads and show them to my friends.

The road was wet and had high conifers on either side. It was empty but for some small birds chirping and laughing. After riding for quite some time, I saw someone. A boy? No. Her effeminate walk, long locks and pink dress suggested otherwise. She was like a magnet attracting me towards her. I had always dreamed about an angel wearing a pink dress with flowing laces holding a wand. Was this my angel? With the excitement and apprehension of seeing Santa Claus for the first time, I followed her. She had a fresh rose in her hand and was walking oblivious of everything around her- singing and dancing. I was in a trance. I forgot everything about myself and followed her. I lost count of how much time had passed but when I recovered, she was not there.

I cried a lot that night. What was behind that elusive face? Perhaps, I will never find out. I went for many days in search for her on that road. And then, I forgot. Well, that's life.

________________________________

For those of you who think I am sixteen, well I am not. I found this on a paper while cleaning my closet. It seems funny that I don't remember much about this incident. To tell the truth, I don't remember anything at all. I literally forgot. "Well, that's life." If it had not been for this paper, I would not even have known such an incident had happened. And God, I dreamed about an angel dressed in pink, what was I, a goddamn six year old. And " a rose, singing and dancing" , I guess that's the effect Bollywood can have on a child who has not attained puberty. Or has? I don't remember.

Gulzar and My Life

2008-09-13T21:16:00.005+05:30

Was browsing through some of Gulzar's works on the net and found this one. Its so simple and yet says a lot...about life, about everything.

Udkar jaate huye panchhi ne bas itna hi dekha..

door tak haath hilaati rahi wo shaakh fiza mein

alvida kehne ko ya paas bulane ke liye

The "Love Stick" Mails

2008-09-12T19:09:00.007+05:30

I hadnt opened my spam mail folder since a long time. And now when I opened it, I was shocked to find plenty of "Lengthen your love tool" mails. Now wtf. Who told them. ;)

Here are some of the mails I have recieved.

Top secret of most lovers have been discovered.

Duh! Ask Dan Brown to write a novel on it.

Ensure your potence and make love everywhere.

Everywhere?? * rolls eyes*

You are born to become her best lover.

Oh Am I ? And how many lovers she has?

Few simple steps to dominate in bedroom.

* rolls eyes again *

Get a magic tool for lady's satisfaction.

Magic? I dont want one. What if it vanishes midway in the act? * imagines it and is terrified*

How to make your gf 10 times happier.

10 times? Can we bargain?

All that she is dreaming about during long nights.

Wtf. And she said she was dreaming about me.

5 reasons why men cant satisfy women.

Are there only 5? *scratches head*

Spice your bedroom life.

Like all the spices in my dining-room life werent enough.

Want to become master of love making art?

Hell, no. * looks above and changes decision*

Be the stud in 2008.

Shit! Why hadnt I seen this before. Can I use it for 2009?* pleading for an yes*

Find your love stick gain here.

Love stick? Man, atleast have some respect for it. * sneers and curses*

Keep it up fast and simply.

Nice pun! You should have been a writer man.

You will be absolutely amazed when you see your penis gradually becoming Larger and Larger, right before your eyes!

Hell, what if it does not stop becoming larger( with a capital L). * imagines the size of the underwear needed*

Just out of curiosity, I visited the sites mentioned. Normally, our college connection settings would not have let me open those but then I always use proxies and all for the sites I want. ;)

And believe me, what I saw there wasnt good. Besides a before-and-after photo, yeaawww *vomits all over his laptop*, there was info about ingredients, side effects, types( yeah it comes in herbal for those eco friendly people out there) and even a money back guarantee. And also different men toys ( quite different from those which you had as a kid, duh) like a ring and a ball crusher( also with photo) *vomits more, now drowned in his own vomit*

I quickly exited the site, took a few deep breaths and started thinking about my maths prof to banish those images. But it didnt help, rather it made things worse.( If you what I mean) ( For those who know what I mean, it was complete with rings and all.)

So that was it. Just now, deleted all the spam mails and promised myself never to take a look at them ever again. Really, never.

The Break Up - A Comedy

2008-09-07T01:24:00.004+05:30

What?

Rahul you have been an hour late and you are asking what. I have been sitting here looking at all these people while the waiter comes every five minutes and asks me if I want something. Do you know how embarrassing it is?

But am I to be blamed for that, Mansi? You know how much work I have these days. Still I take out time and come to see you and it’s my fault if I become a little late due to this bloody traffic.

Do you think I don’t have work Rahul? But I take time out for you, for me. This is the time we should be thinking about ourselves, not about others.

Thats what I have been doing, Mansi. Thinking about me, about us. Things are not like a year back when I had no responsibility. Now I have been promoted. I need to think about my future. Like all, I have dreamt of a big house, a luxury car and a hefty salary. I have to work hard for that. It wont happen if we just declare our love in this restaurant every day.

Yes. I know you have to work hard for your future but don’t I come in your future, Rahul? Dont you want to spend some precious time with me?

Of course, I do Mansi. But I want you to be happy with me and thats why I am doing all this.Waiter...bring us a coffee and a chocolate-vanilla shake please.

No, make it two shakes and make it a little early. I have waited long enough.

Thats what I hate about you, Mansi. You trying to thrust your wishes upon me. You trying to dictate how I should live my life. Why do you get to decide what I want, Mansi. I absolutely hate that.

But, its just a simple coffee, Rahul. I thought a shake would really calm your hot mind and...

No, its not just a simple coffee, Mansi. Its my life. I hate to pamper you everyday, taking you to dinner one day and to the movies the other day. My friends sneer when you call four times a day to say I love you. Do you know what they call me, Mansi. They call me the ‘hen-pecked bastard’. Is that what I am?

But you had said that you don’t care about...

But I have changed, Mansi. I am not that starry-eyed teenager any more who thought that love was the only thing in life you need to live for. I now know success is more important than love. I want to be successful, Mansi. Real successful. And whenever I want to climb the mountain to reach the summit, you love kind of drags me down to the hell I had always been. I want to come out of this.

Say it straight, you bastard. Say that you are now bored of your girlfriend of three years. You have fucked me many times and thats what you have always wanted to do. Isnt it? Thats what all guys want. You now think I will scream and cry that you want to leave me. No Mr. Hen-Pecked Bastard, I will say goodbye and go have a sound sleep and...

I know you love me very much, Mansi. But your love has kind of become a burden for me. I carry that burden wherever I go, whatever I do. I want to live my life free not under the weight of your love. I am sorry, Mansi.

But Rahul...please Rahul...we have made it through three years. We should just give it another try. I promise I wont bother you, I wont even call you Rahul please...

No Mansi, we will talk about this some other time and I promise it wont be soon.

Rahul, wait please...

Ma’am, your two chocolate-vanilla shakes.

Fuck you.

My Crushes - Episode II

2008-09-05T23:53:00.003+05:30

During one of those late night discussions at hostel, I was asked to list all my crushes. And believe me, it was really difficult. Starting from school teachers to perfect strangers, the list is seemingly endless. I have always believed in crushes more than in love. Love was like that unexplored territory which I was always afraid to go into. A crush was friendlier. It never demanded anything. I have always enjoyed my crushes. The times when I am thrilled, excited, frightened and passionate at the same time. So, this is the second in the series of My Crushes.

I was at home enjoying?? the vacations. Each week had seven weekends and I was bored as hell. I joined a guitar class and also convinced one of my friends to join it. It was like crash course in 2 months of my vacation .

The class began every morning at 8 and I was never late. The first time I was late, I saw a black pair of sandals at the footstep. As a reflex, I straightened my hair, looked in the rear view mirror of the bike and went inside. Sitting there was the most cute girl I had ever seen. Believe me, you could never associate beautiful or sexy with her. She was just cute. No wonder her friends at school called her Angel.( I learnt this later) We just smiled at each other that day. It was just a friendly smile but I kept remembering it again and again. I practised very hard that night to impress her the next day. The creature that I was, I kept thinking of the perfect introduction line all night. For two days, I didn’t say anything. The third day, she asked me to play a note for her. I was a little nervous but I think I did all right. We began talking after that. She always talked like a li’l girl and I had always hated that. But there was no hint of fakeness in her tone. It was just plain innocence.

Most of the times, our teacher would give us a song and go somewhere. The three of us used to have discussions on almost everything during these recesses. We used to have arguments on topics starting from “Vegetarianism” to “Gayism”. She was a staunch supporter of No-meat campaigns and I clearly remember she almost cried out in one of the discussions. Those classes were really the most interesting classes I ever attended. I found that she used to blog too. And good ones at that. I will soon post a poem by her.

Most of my friends never understand the fact that she was just 15 when I had a crush on her.Like age decided everything. They never understand that love is not always wanting. They never understand why I could have attended that class forever even if my fingers hurt like hell from all the strumming, why I would wait everyday at the gate just to walk beside her to the class, why I would look at her beautiful but clumsy fingers on the strings all throughout the class and why I would stare nervously at her only to look down when she saw me. Some things are better experienced.

Some days before leaving, I wrote her an e-mail saying that I had a crush on her. Sometimes my friends ask me why do I always have to tell the girl. Well I have always believed that it hurts more saying nothing, wishing you had, than saying something, wishing you hadn’t. We exchanged mails for some days after that. And when I came back to the college and didn’t see her anymore for many days over, the feelings slowly faded. The mails stopped. I didn’t ask for her cell number. I will meet her someday, maybe in a few days, maybe in a few years. The day I meet her, will I be able to recognise her, will this old crush again rekindle itself, will she be as cute as she was the last time I saw her. But for now, I am free of these thoughts. That’s the magic of a crush. It never comes with a burden like love.

If someone asks me what I love most about a crush, I would say its the memories. The memories of love are often bitter, often painful. But the memories of a crush are always endearing. A crush comes in your life like a sweet flower, filling your life with all the fragrance and then it fades away, leaving a memory as sweet. Its like that wilted rose, which has been kept in an obscure book for so long that now it would crumple on touching or that yellowing love letter, kept carefully somewhere to always remind you that someone, at some point of time liked you more than anything else.

The Time of my Life

2008-08-21T21:36:00.006+05:30

I know I have been absent from my blog since a long time, but then I think I have a good enough reason for it. Campus placements were going on in our college and I have been seleceted in a couple of companies, Accenture and IOCL. What I felt when I got my first job is worth a separate post. Though it has been a long time since then, I never got time to write.

I had always wanted to do an MBA right after college. But somehow, that plan seems to be fading now. I would now like to enjoy my job for a couple of years, and then do my MBA from a good institute. Its strange how life takes us in with all its twists and turns.

I smile as I hear these lines from "Time of your life" by Greenday,

Its something unpredictable
But in the end, its right
I hope you had the time of your life.

I nod and say "I did".

Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na

2008-07-16T21:36:00.005+05:30

Finally, I got to see Jaane Tu... Verdict - Predictable yet enjoyable.

I was a big fan of its music since its launch( will come back to it later) and had waited to see this movie for a long time. Yesterday, I got the time. And I must say that I was a little( yeah a little) dissapointed.

Right from the start, where the freinds are narrating the story to another girl waiting at the airport (Chalte Chalte ?), the movie was quite predictable and seemed a mix and match of all bollywood formulas. Theres the poor guy - rich girl story, theres the friendship-or-love theory, theres "duniya ke sabse cool parents", theres the typical oh-he-is-so-bad villian who slaps the heroine, theres slapstick humor provided by two deranged souls, theres over the top melodrama in the end with the hero riding a horse to the airport and policemen falling over each other. In the hands of a bad director, I am thinking what a mess this film could have been. Probably, even the director realises this and therefore he gives away the story in the middle. You know Jai'll beat the bad guy, you know he will go to jail, you know he will then ride a horse to the airport and you know there's gonna be a happy ending. You just wait for that to happen.

Having said that, the movie was never boring. Yeah, it dragged a bit in the second half but full marks to the director for the awesome presentation. All the actors were brilliant and did their part with ease. Imran plays the role of a simple, friendly guy and no doubt most of the girls find him cuteeee( though one of my friend finds him gay :O) Genelia looks as lovely as one can be and I wish she was given more credit for the film, all of which is being taken by the new Khan. The friends seemed believable and the chemistry between them was nice. I specially liked the guitar strumming girl with her punk looks. Bombs, she was called. Lol! Aditi's brother was great as an estranged friend. Meghna was okayish with her escaping-reality theory. Nasserudin Shah and Paresh Rawal were funny. Though the Sohail- Arbaaz stunt was a nice one, but I think it was dragged a bit. There was always subtle comedy( Coca Cola on the rocks Lol!), dialouges were nice, backgorund music was awesome and the songs were out of the world. Overall, though predictable, you will definitely enjoy it. There have been duds in the name of musical romantic comedies in Blooywood and this one seems to be one of the best of its genres.

Sound Track

If you havent heard all the songs of Jaane Tu..., go now, beg, borrow, steal, kill, shoot, do anything but get the CD. Never since Dil Chahta Hai have I found a film where all the songs compete with one another for the top spot. My love for "Kabhi Kabhi Aditi" is already known. "Pappu cant dance saala" is already a chartbuster. "Nazrein Milana" is another nice and peppy track. I am sure you will be humming it after a few hearings. Then there are two versions of "Jaane tu mera kya hai", a wonderful song, both in terms of its lyrics as well as music. Sadly, this song is not included in the film. Theres a lovely romantic song, "Kahin To Hogi Woh". With its haunting lyrics, it certainly reminds you of "Tu Hi Re", another A R Rahman track. Last but not the least, theres "Tu Bole Main Boloon", the title track, sung by A R Rahman. As usual, he does a brilliant job and the song is one of the best in the albums. After Guru, its nice to see A R Rahman's music in a new avatar and I am glad I live in his era.

Like The Sunflower

2008-06-20T00:06:00.005+05:30

This poem,a metaphorical love triangle is written by one of my best buddies at school Jai. In fact it was him who introduced me to writing in the first place. Loved his writings then. Love his writings now.

Like The Sunflower

A flower was born from the barren skies above,

Life was her colour and smile was her scent,

She was a gift for the land of love,

That the selfish god had so reluctantly sent.

The droning bee was created one day

He was thirsty but couldn't drink water

"How should i live" to god he prayed

"Go to the flower" replied almighty creator

And so to the flower he went

"I'm the bee that god has sent"

She asked the bee "will you be my friend

That the selfish god had promised to send"

Thus friends they became forever

And this friendship created nectar

That gave life to bee and the flower

And made sure they remained together

The sun was there all along

And his story ran from dusk to dawn

As he was infatuated to the lovely moon

But this was going to change very soon

The moon shone alike for all the stars

With cool glow she reflected his heat

And the sun's feelings slowly vapourized

"I too am a star" the sun finally realized.

So to days he turned from the night

And saw the flower in his own light

At this age as naturally as one might

He fell in love, again, at first sight.

Flower gradually found all her bee friends boring

And looked at the skies one pretty morning

To find the sun who was looking cute and adoring

And since, with each other, they started gossiping

From sunrise to sunset they faced each other

Their private chatting seemed to end never

Her name was changed by someone very clever

And thus she became the pretty SUNFLOWER

The sun ignored the planets and the flower ignored the bees

They were seen alone at hilltops, they were seen near the seas.

The bees found other gardens the planets didn't stop revolving

The sun's light was fading and the flower's fragnance dissolving

Still ignorant of the world around

Love sweet love they had found

Until one day so hot the sun became

That it paused this lovely game

This growing heat scared the flower

But as she was now the sunflower

She couldn't turn away from this fiery fellow

And her colour of life faded to a dusty yellow

And this story continues forever

Bees like the sun and the flower

But they never search for nectar

From the yellow sunflower.

Written by Jai Singh Kshatri

The God that did not exist

2008-06-15T02:33:00.004+05:30

Fiction. Written in haste at 2 am. May contain grammatical errors, spelling errors. Kindly point out if you find one.

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I was blinded for a second. I had used every ounce of my energy on pressing the brake. And now it was as if I was dead from the exhaustion. A little ahead, a crumpled body of a small girl lied in a pool of blood. People were gathering around her. I realised that my car had hit her but then I was too numb to realise anything else. Some young men came to me and spoke something but I could not hear them. The noise in my head was too loud. They nodded their heads, put me in the back seat, picked up the girl and put her head on my lap, and one of them started driving.

It all seemed a nightmare to me that I could not wake myself up from. As I sat there with the girl’s blood soaked head in my lap, I looked at her face. She was beautiful, looking at me as if smiling. Her eyes were closed, as if she was in a deep sleep unknown to everything that was happening around. I had lost my parents in a car accident when I was a kid and a part of me had died after that. A part of me that had so much belief in God. A part of me that had known that God could not be so unkind as to take away the ones I love the most. And it was an irony that now I was involved in the life and death of this small girl whom I didn’t even know, through a car accident. As much as I wanted to look away, that tiny locket on her neck, carrying the image of Krishna, the Hindu God , was attracting me. Swinging like a pendulum, as if to delineate the time left in the little girl’s life, it was like a dagger going into and out of my heart.

At the hospital, the doctor gave me a medicine and I slowly returned back to normal. I thanked the men who had brought us here. They told me that they had informed the police and it would come here any time. I was taken to the police station and questioned. The girl was some orphan, I was rich, I was not drunk and the men had testified that it was the girl’s fault. So, the police said that it would not be a big trouble for me. But somehow, it didn’t make me feel comfortable. As I went back to the hospital, I found the doctor and asked him how was the little girl. He said there was not much he could do and asked me to pray.

Pray! If it had been any other circumstance, I would have laughed. I had stopped praying since so many years that I had forgotten how you did that. It was not easy at first to be a non-believer in this society. People always ask you why don’t you believe in God? I have always avoided this question saying i am a rationalist and not an atheist. Basically, an atheist is a believer too. A muslim does not believe in any other God but his own, his Allah. An atheist does not believe in any other God, including Allah. So, a muslim is an atheist too and atheist is a believer too. Tell an atheist there is God and he will defend his stance with great ferocity. But as a rationalist, there is no question of presence or absence of God as everything is based on reason and science.

I had been to the church many times with my father, as a kid. The one thing that struck me most about the church was its silence. Like a lonely tree, it often stood out with its high ceilings and painted glass windows. Entering the church was like entering into another world, a world of serenity, a world of grandeur, a world that instilled fear nad respect at the same time. Whenever I heard the toll of the large bell at the church, a shiver ran down my spine. My father, a devout Christian himself, would always take me to the masses. When he met with the accident, I prayed for him day and night. I prayed with all my heart but when he died, i realised a simple truth about the world. And I have lived with that truth till now.

A child is always a non believer. He never understands hate, jealousy, danger and evil. He just understands one language- Love. Nature, even animals, understand this language. Strangely, we don’t. But then he grows up and when he keeps his tooth under his pillow for what seems like forever and does not get the moon he had always wanted, he realises life is not fair. He realises the fat man he had always believed in is just a fictional character. Then, he is told by his parents about God. And about the greatest excuse mankind ever intended- Fate. That day, he loses himself. He starts to realise he is just a mere puppet, he belives in his destiny and blames it if he goes wrong. Its strange that whatever he wants to do coincides with what God wanted him to do and whatever he could not do was not written for him by God. Man, who is so intelligent is not able to recognise that if there had been a God, he would have never the world bear so many misfortunes. He would have never let anyone to be born crippled, He would have never let so many innocents die in the name of terrorism. Man actually understands that but still clings to the belief because believing in yourself is very difficult. And that innocent child is somewhere lost in this belief in God.

But today was different. I had to pray. That image of Krishna on the swinging locket kept haunting me. I decided to pray for the little girl, as I had done for my father.

In contrast with a church, a Hindu temple is a dark and dingy place, most of them in caves. Beggars line the entrance of the temple, with outstretched hands asking for alms. On the inside, you see a fanatical celebration of God, people singing praises of the Lord called bhajans, people, with vermillion smeared on their face, wearing holy robes dancing to the cries of Hare Rama Hare Krishna. As I went inside the sanctum, the air was suffused with the smell of burnt oil, garlands of flower lay on the statue of Krishna as people came and knelt on the ground and prayed. I stood there, my eyes closed, my palms joined on their own, as I heard the continuous toll of the bell. It made me uneasy as the church bell always used to do. Still, i stood there. Images of the girl’s face, the swinging locket and the stone statue of Krishna raced through my mind. And it was then that I knew the girl would be alive. I was alive with a new hope I had never experienced all these years. I realised hope was not a string of dew drops which faintly clung to reality as I had known, but that hope was a force. It was a force strong enough to move mountains. If there had been no hope, there would have been no world. Its only the hope of a better world that keeps us living and working in the first place. I realised what my father meant when he said during prayers, he was closer to God. I felt God coming down and saying to me that the girl would be all right. I felt relieved. I spent the entire night at the temple.

The next morning, when I went to the hospital, I was feeling good because I knew the girl would be all right as God had said me that. I searched for the doctor. When I found him and asked him about the little girl, he hung his head low. I did not hear what he had to say because I knew that the girl was all right.

Epilogue

I cremated the girl at Haridwar, a shrine for Hindus. That locket with the image of Krishna is placed alongside a small Jesus in my room. I always take my children to the church and to that Krishna temple. And I often tell them this story about a small orphan girl who made me see God again.

Kabhi Kabhi 'Jiggs' Zindagi

2008-06-03T10:55:00.005+05:30

I am so much in love with this song...Cant stop myself from humming it everytime...Genelia looks cute and lovely as usual...Imran looks good too...There are some movies you have a good feeling about even before they are released. And this movie qualifies to be placed there. Hope it doesnt dissapoint as just another college flick.

Found the lyrics of this song on net... The lyrics are simple yet fresh ...And really make you a li'l happy if you are down... And hell now I find Aditi a more beautiful name than earlier...And Rashid Ali has done a great job as the singer...With his swayings, sometimes like Adnan Sami, the song feels more peppy... And what to say about A R Rahman... The music is classy and funky at the same time. I just love the guitar strums throughout the song...

Posting the lyrics so that you can hum along( the song is on the upper left corner)

Kabhi kabhi Aditi zindagi mein yuhi koi apna lagta hai.

Kabhi kabhi Aditi wo bichhar jaaye to ek sapna lagta hai.

Aise mei koi kaise apne aansu o ko behne se roke?

Aur kaise koi sochle everything's gonna be ok?

Kabhi kabhi to lage zindagi mein rahi naa khushi aur naa mazaa.

Kabhi kabhi to lage har din mushkil aur har pal ek sazaa.

Aise mein koi kaise mushkuraye, kaise hasde khush hoke?

Aur kaise koi soch de everything gonna be ok?

Soch jara jaaneja tujhko hum kitna chahte hai.

Rotein hai hum bhi aggar teri ankhon mein aansu aate hai.

Gaane to aata nahi hai magar phir bhi hum gaate hai.

Ke Aditi maan kabhi, kabhi saare jahan mein andhera hota hai;

Lekin raat ke baad hi to sabera hota hai.

Kabhi kabhi Aditi zindagi mei yuhi koi apna lagta hai.

Kabhi kabhi Aditi wo bichhar jaaye to ek sapna lagta hai.

Hey Aditi Hasde hasde hasde hasde hasde, hasde tu zara.

Nahi to bus thora thora thora thora thora, thora mushkura.

Tu khush hai to lage ke jahan mein chhaayi hai khushi.

Suraj nikle baadlon se aur baantein zindagi.

Suun to jara madhosh hawa tujhse kehne lagi.

Ke Aditi wo jo bichhad-te hai ek na ek din phir mil jaate hai;

Aditi jaane tu ya jaane na phool phir khil jaate hai.

Kabhi kabhi Aditi zindagi mei yuhi koi apna lagta hai.

Kabhi kabhi Aditi wo bichhar jaaye to ek sapna lagta hai.

Hey Aditi Hasde hasde hasde hasde hasde, hasde tu zara.

Nahi to bus thora thora thora thora thora, thora mushkura.

Just wish I had someone called Aditi to sing this song to. In her absence, I hope probably Jiggs wont mind. ;)

I am not what you think I am

2008-05-31T12:18:00.004+05:30

Some days back, I got a comment on my Chatbox that my posts were degrading to women, that I treated women as "property" in my posts and what if the character had been my sister and thoughts of that sort. I dont have the original comment otherwise I would have posted that. Now, I did not pay much heed to the comment as it was anonymous. Unfortunately, my Chatbox got deleted while I was changing my template. Now I have got this new comment on one of my posts, presumably by the same person. It reads as,

"Oh I notice you have removed your shoutbox after I left a message there. That still doesn't make you a woman-respecting man. In fact it shows that deep inside, you know it's true as well. I didn't mean to sound harsh. It just came out in a bout of anger. But really, I would ask you to take a moment and reflect on whether you really want women in your life to be like that."

Why am I taking notice now? Because now I can assume that the commenter is really serious. Because it hurts me to think that it could be a woman who seriously feels this way. And I really want to know if unknowingly I am writing something that is 'really' degrading to women. So, I want to clarify ceratin things about my posts.

First, though nearly all my posts are written in first person, they are entirely fictional unless otherwise stated. I hope I dont believe I have to write a disclaimer at the beginning. Though fictional, I have always believed in my characters and it would not be wrong to say that a part of 'me' is in them. I know my stories have mostly dealt with girls, imaginary sex and friendship. But in my defence, being a student, these are the topics I am comfortable with and I believe you should always write on topics you are comfortable with. I have always been a "woman respecting" guy. Though I dont have a sister, I really really wish that I had one. I have always believed that the bond between a sister and a brother is the most amazing one. I hate perverts and can never imagine of being one. I have a number of female friends and I can assure you that they will confirm this. Yes, sometimes I have dealt things like sex and love and girls lightly in my posts but all of these have been strictly written with a cheesy sense of humor.

So Miss Anonymous ( I beleive you are a girl from the sensitivity of the allegations), I would like you to come forward( with your original name) and tell me which part you found "degrading to women". I sincerely promise I will try to rectify myself in future. As for others, I would really appreciate it if you could tell me if I am going overboard in terms of decency when I write about sex and things like that.

The Ice-cream Parlour Girl Again

2008-05-30T17:04:00.004+05:30

Before reading this, read the previous post "The Ice-cream Parlour Girl".

The last thing I wanted was to let Sunny have a girlfriend. That meant an end to many things between us. An end to the long chats we used to have on hot girls, computer games, hot girls, music and hot girls coz all he wanted to talk about now was Sonali. An end to the evening rides on my bike around the ladies hostel. Ofcourse it didn’t mean an end to our porn weekends. Only that I watched them alone now and it was me who brought the CDs from the store now. It seemed weird that whenever I went there, I could find my friend’s brother or my dad’s friend there and I somehow ended up bringing home ‘Pakeezah’ or ‘Mother India’. I had even stopped going to the ice-cream parlour. I once went there alone but I could feel the waiter mocking me with his Dracula teeth. When I sat at ‘my’ table, suddenly I felt the spotlight on me. Everyone in the parlour left everything they were doing and looked at me as if I am the lead in a tragedy play. They were all ready with their ice-cream cups and cones to throw at me if the play went bad. It was scary. I never went there again.

I realised I was losing a lot of hair when my wash basin was clogged with my own martyr hair. My aunt said that I had lost a lot of weight. Though she cant be counted upon as that was her familiar form of greeting someone, even Sumo wrestlers, I believe, if she met one. It was strange that Sunny who could tell from my eyes if I had taken an afternoon nap or not could not see any change in me. Believe me, the worst feeling in the world is when you realise you are now not wanted. Its as if no-one cares about now. Its as if you are invisible now. You can take my word that being invisible and walking on the streets naked or hiding in some girl’s bathroom seemed only fun in the movies. I learned it the hard way.

As much as I was jealous of Sunny, I realised that I had something for Sonali. I smiled like a wet puppy wanting to be picked up whenever I saw her face. I felt a tiny prick in my heart somewhere when Sunny used to tell me how he kissed her.I even dreamed about threesomes where I would be on top of...Okay thats personal. Now Sunny didn’t know a thing about it. So when I told him that I would like to go with them to the restaurant, he seemed surprised.

“What?” , he exclaimed. “We are going on a date man. You are not allowed to come with us.”
“Of course I am. There is no rule in ‘The Official Book of Dates’ that two guys are not allowed in a date”, I said matter-of-factly.
“There is a book? How come you didn’t tell me about it? I need that.”
“Okay, now that I have told you, can I come?”
“Yeah I guess you can if theres no rule”, he said spreading his hands.
It was so easy to convince this guy.

It was a nice restaurant. Red Chinese bulbs hanging everywhere in the beige surroundings looked nice. I didn’t have much trouble finding them with Sunny waving his hands violently from there.
“Man, I searched the book you said in the store. It just had pictures of deserts and palm trees. Nothing real”, Sunny said as soon as I sat down.
I managed to look surprised.
I looked at Sonali. She was looking so beautiful .I blurted out a faint hello.
“Hi, I was waiting for you.”, she said.
What! Did she say that . ‘I was waiting for you’ could mean different things in different contexts. But the first thing to remember when you are with girls is to forget the context. I remember one time when I was with Pooja, the hottest chick in our class and she was so frustrated with me that she said ‘Fuck you’. That was it. I went about telling everybody that Pooja wanted me to fuck me but I didn’t. I was like a hero for some days until I told somebody the context.

During the evening, I noticed that Sonali was looking down even she talked with Sunny. It was not a good sign. I had learned one thing watching the Discovery channel late at night. When the male gorilla looks for a mate, he has just one thing in his mind “Good Sex”. On the other hand, the female gorilla is really confused, she may like the smell of his armpit or the length of his you-know-what, she always has things like ‘will he be a good father?’ or ‘will he take care of me when I am old’ running in her head. And after all humans are closely related to gorillas. So a female (now I am talking about humans) might fall for you initially but when she realises you don’t fit her conditions, she becomes apprehensive. Sunny’s stupidity had initially attracted Sonali. While jogging in park, when you see a guy on the bench laughing at nothing, you feel intrigued. You sit by him and laugh, you feel nice. But then at one point of time, the same laugh irritates you. You abuse him, kick his groin, pinch his nipples hard but he doesn’t stop his stupid laugh. It is then that you realise that he is a stranger and its time to move on. And somehow I felt that Sonali was realising that.

I have been never good at predicting things beforehand. When my sister got pregnant and I told her it was going to be a boy, a girl was born. The next time, I played safe and said that it was going to be a boy or a girl. Again I was wrong. So you see, when Sonali and Sunny broke up, I was happy that atleast one of my predictions came right. I had thought that Sunny would be devastated from it but he took it unexpectedly well. He would sometimes remember her but then Sonali was hot. Things were slowly returning back to normal. As for me, I had never gotten over my crush but I was again busy with Sunny. We now again had the bike rides and the porn weekends and it was a relief to have Sunny bringing the CDs.

It was our first evening at the icecream parlour after Sunny’s breakup. I mocked the waiter now although I missed his Dracula teeth. We had some icecreams for a change. It was then that I saw Sonali opening the door.
She was wearing the same white dress that she had worn on the first day we had met her here. She was coming straight to us.

She sat at out table and then looking straight into my eyes, said, “I like you Rahul. And I know you like me too. ”
Again I felt like I was an actor in a theatre, the spotlight was on me, everyone including the Dracula waiter was looking at me with anticipation to hear my dialogues. If I said them right, I would be a big star. If I messed it up, I would lose everyone, my best friend, my crush, all of them. God! The threesome was so much better in my dreams.

(To be continued...) (Sorry Guys...Could not end it...)

The Ice-cream Parlour Girl

2008-05-28T17:24:00.006+05:30

I love the ice-cream parlour at the end of the road. Brightly lit and with plush seats everywhere, a myriad of colors and flavours in rectangular glass boxes inviting you, the air conditioned air with a mild fragnance, this was the perfect place to take out your girlfriend to on a summer evening. And it was only for the last reason that I loved it. I and Sunny( would come back to him later) often would go out to this shop to look at all the couples making out there. Initially, the waiter used to come and ask if we wanted something. But we were always ready with excuses like “Oh, do you have the exotica-de-olivia?” or “Shit! We thought you accepeted credit cards” or “Do you take orders for home delivery coz we dont eat icecreams at public places.” After some days, the poor waiter resigned to his fate and concluded that we were like those uninvited pigeons which inevitably came when you bought a house at the top floor. We would sit at our favourite place and rue the fact that the squint eyed guy was with “hot legs” or that the guy with eleven fingers always came with a different girl. But today was going to be different.

Sunny had been my best friend since the day I knew what ‘best friend’ stood for. He had the look of a rapper who had been forced to turn a schoolteacher. Always with his just-outta-bed hairstyle and his trademark red glasses, he blabbered nonsense incessantly and was annoying at most times. You had to try very hard to like him at first sight. And sights thereafter. My mother hated him. Back when I first took him to my house, my mother was sitting on the couch doing what housewives do best- watching soap opera while the maid cleaned the table squinting at the tv. Before I could introduce everyone, Sunny went, touched our maid’s feet. My mother had been hit where it hurt the most.The closest Sunny had come to a girl was three years ago when he often talked with a girl on the phone. They hadnt met each other but they were “very close”. When the girl met Sunny and asked him if she looked the same as he had imagined, he said,” Hell! You have way too smaller boobs.” That was the end of that. Thats Sunny for you.

Today was a special day. Not because it rained on a summer evening, though it was a contributing factor. But because we met Sonali. When Sonali, soaked wet, enetered, every guy on every table looked at her. All the dogs, with thier tounges out were looking at a fresh new piece of bone. While others quickly realising that they were tamed ones, drew their tounges in, I realised I was a wild dog. It was the first time I was happy about sitting here with Sunny rather than a chick. Both of us were smiling at her. She smiled back and came and sat at our table.

“Hi I am Sonali.”
“I am Rahul and this is my friend Sunny.”, I said.
“You can call me Sunny.” Yeah, thats Sunny again for you.
“So, how come you are all wet?”, Sunny asked.
“Oh I was just going to my house when it started raining. I hate being all wet in the rain.”, she said wiping her hair with a napkin.
“Well, you can always pee in your pants during the rain. The warm liquid always feels nice against your thighs. And you dont even have to wash your pants again.”, Sunny said with a serious face.
Probably she took it as a joke and smiled.
“So you come here often?”, Sonali asked.
“Yeah sometimes when we are free and...”I was beginning to say when I was interrupted.
“Yes everyday, not to eat though. We come here just to watch the couples kissing.”
I forced a nervous laugh as if to say, “Nice joke”
We talked for a few minutes till the rain stopped. She promised she would meet us again tommorow here.

The next morning, I went to Sunny and said I wanted to see her alone. He said he understood. Probably, he had been planning to say that to me before. I dont know why he did that. Sometimes, you think you know a person so well, but he opens a facet sompletely unknown to you. When I went to the shop, Sonali was already sitting there. She seemed dissapointed that Sunny hadnt come. I lied to her that he would come soon. Though we talked, she always had her eyes on the door. I was really jealous that she would like a lanky and dark guy like Sunny more than me. It was then that I realised that love is not all about apperance. Love is more about connecting with someone. Weird as it may seem, love is more like a plug and hole combination. If the plug is too loose, it falls off whereas if it is too tight, one or the other usually cracks. You just need the perfect connection to stay alive in a realtionship. You may have the most decorated plug but if it does not connect, its useless. And Sonali had connected with Sunny. And “hot legs” had connected with the squint-eyed guy. And the guy with eleven fingers connected with everyone.

That night, I went to Sunny and told him that Sonali liked him. I was standing far off from him as I knew he would do his “I am so happy” dance crushing everything that came within his way. But he silently listened as if he had known this way too earlier. Why was he behaving differently today? Change often creeps me out. As soon as I closed the door, I could hear a vase crashing down. I was too happy that it was the same Sunny...

( To be continued...)

F.R.I.E.N.D.S

2008-05-07T20:36:00.005+05:30

So no one told you life was going to be this way.

Your job's a joke, you're broke, you're love life's DOA.

It's like you're always stuck in second gear,

Well, it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year.

But, I'll be there for you, when the rain starts to pour.

I'll be there for you, like I've been there before.

I'll be there for you, cause you're there for me too.

Been revising Friends again. I can never seem to get enough of it. :)

Joey: Okay, some tricks of the trade.

Now, I've never been able to cry as an actor, so if I'm in a scene where I have to cry, I cut a hole in my pocket, take a pair of tweezers, and just start pulling.

Or ah, or, let's say I wanna convey that I've just done something evil. That would be the basic 'I have a fishhook in my eyebrow and I like it'

[Does it by raising one eyebrow, and showing off the pretend fishhook]

Joey: Okay, let's say I've just gotten bad news, well all I do there is try and divide 232 by 13. [looks all confused]

Joey: And that's how it's done. Great soap opera acting tonight everybody, class dismissed.

Ross: I'm gonna say this as Monica's brother. Not as your friend.

Chandler: So now you're not my friend?

Ross: Not now.

Chandler: All right.

Ross: So i couldn't be happier cause you're marrying Monica. But if someday you ever hurt her, I will hunt you down and kick your ass.

Chandler: Hahahahahahaha!

Ross: What, what? I'm just warning you. I'll hunt you down and kick your ass.

Chandler: Ok. So now you're my friend again?

Ross: Yes.

Chandler: You wouldn't believe what Monica's brother just told me...

Joey: I am telling this to Rachel! Monica: No, Joey! Joey: Unless...

Chandler: Unless what? Joey: Unless you name your first born after me.

Chandler: What? Why? Joey: Because, I may never have kids. Somebody's gonna have to carry on my family name.

Chandler: Your family name is Tribianni. [pause]

Joey: Oh ho ho! You almost had me there!

Chandler: Yo, paisan! Can I talk to you for a sec? Your tailor is a very bad man!

Joey: Frankie? What are you talking about? Ross: Hey, what's going on? Chandler: Joey's tailor... took advantage of me. Ross: What?

Joey: No way. I've been going to that guy for 12 years. Chandler: Oh, come on! He said he was going to do my inseam, and then he ran his hand up my leg. And then, there was definite... cupping.

Joey: That's how they do pants! First they go up one side, they move it over, then they go up the other side, they move it back, and then they do the rear.

[Chandler and Ross stare at him] Joey: What? Ross, Ross, would you tell him? Isn't that how they measure pants?

Ross: Yes. Yes, it is... In prison!

[One of Ross's students wrote a flirtatious evaluation of his class] Chandler: So, who is she?

Ross: I don't know. The evaluations were anonymous.

Joey: Well, do you still have their final exams? Ross: Yeah. Joey: Well, it's simple. You take the final exams and the evaluations, you see whose handwriting matches, and boom! You got your admirer!

Chandler: A hot chick is at stake and suddenly he's Rain Man!

Ross: I would date her but there is a big age difference.

Joey: Well think about it when you're 90... Ross: I know, she'll be 80 and it won't be such a big difference.

Joey: No. What I was gonna say is when you're 90 you'll still have the memory of what it was like to be with a 20-year-old.

Chandler: Alright, look if you absolutely have to tell her the truth, at least wait until the timing's right. And that's what deathbeds are for.

Rachel: I use my breasts to get other peoples attention! Monica: WE BOTH DO THAT!

[After Monica gets a disastrous haircut.] Ross: How's Monica?

Phoebe: She's calmed down a bit. I put a clip on one side, which seems to have stopped the curling.

Ross: How's the hair? Phoebe: I'm not gonna lie to you Ross. It doesn't look good.

Joey: Can we see her? Phoebe: No, your hair looks too good. I think it would only upset her. Rachel: Oh.

Phoebe: Ross, you can go on in.

Chandler: All right, you will notice that I am fully dressed. I, in turn, have noticed that you are not. So in the words of A. A. Milne, "Get out of my chair, dillhole!"

Joey: Okay. [He gets up and takes the cushions with him, as he starts to leave]

Chandler: What are you doing? Joey: You said I had to give you the chair, you didn't say anything about the cushions. Chandler: The cushions are the essence of the chair!

Joey: THAT'S RIGHT! I'm taking the ESSENCE!

Chandler: Why wouldn't your parents be happy that we're living together? Monica: Well, um, because mainly, um, they don't like you. I'm sorry.

Chandler: What? What? Why? Monica: Maybe because you used to be aloof, or that you're really sarcastic, or that, you know, you joke around all the time. Or that you take off your clothes and throw them on the couch.

Chandler: Is this why they don't like me or why you don't like me?

Joey: Here it is buddy boy, you hide my clothes, I'm wearing everything you own.

Chandler: Oh My God, that is so not the opposite of taking someone's underwear!

Joey: Look at me, I'm Chandler, could I *be* wearing anymore clothes?

Ross: What? No. What - what are you doing? GET OFF MY SISTER!

Minister: Friends. Family. We are gathered to celebrate here today the joyous union of Ross and Emily. Now Ross, repeat after me. I Ross...

Ross: I Ross...

Minister: Take thee, Emily...

Ross: Take thee, Rachel...Emily.

[Monica knocks] Chandler: You can't come in! Monica: Why not?

Chandler: Because, uh, Ross is naked. Ross: What? Chandler: Well, I couldn't tell her *I* was naked. She's allowed to see me naked.

Ross: Why does *anyone* have to be naked?

[Rachelle is crawling on the floor behind the couch secretly looking for Monica's lost earring] Monica: Rach? What are you doing?

Rachel: Oh I just can't watch. It's too scary. Monica: It's a pampers commercial. [Rachel looks up at the screen then goes back down...]

Rachel: Oh you know me, Babies, responsibilities, Ahhh!

[Describing her friends.] Monica: Married a lesbian, left a man at the altar, married a gay ice dancer, threw a girl's wooden leg in the fire, live in a box!

Ross: You know how at the end of the day, you throw your jacket over a chair? Joey: Yeah? Ross: Well at her place, instead of a jacket, it's a pile of garbage. And instead of a chair, it's a pile of garbage.

[Carol is nursing Ben.] Ross: This is the most beautiful, natural thing in the world. Joey: Yeah, but there's a baby sucking on it!

Joey: [watching Carol nursing Ben] If you blow into one side, does the other get bigger?

Joey: Ross, if homo sapiens actually were HOMO sapiens, is that why they·re exctinct? Ross: Joey, they are people! Joey: Hey, I'm not judging!

Ross: I guess I should have known... we'd be out somewhere, and a beautiful woman would go by, and Carol would go, "Ross, look at her." And I'd think, "My wife is cool!"

[Ross is newly divorced from his lesbian wife.]

Ross: You know what the scariest part is? What if there's only one woman for everybody, you know? I mean, what if you get one woman, and that's it? Unfortunately, in my case, it was only one woman for her.

Joey: What are you talking about? One woman? That's like saying there's only one flavor of ice cream for you. Let me tell you something, Ross. There's lots of flavors out there. There's Rocky Road, and Cookie Dough, and Bing! Cherry Vanilla. You could get them with jimmies, or nuts, or whipped cream! This is the best thing that ever happened to you! You got married, you were, what, eight? Welcome back to the world! Grab a spoon!

Ross: I honestly don't know if I'm hungry or horny.

Chandler: Stay out of my freezer!

Ross: First divorce: wife's hidden sexuality, not my fault. Second divorce: said the wrong name at the altar, kind of my fault. Third divorce: they shouldn't let you get married when you're that drunk and have stuff drawn all over your face, Nevada's fault.

Chandler: You tried to save a sandwich from a bullet? Joey: I know this doesn't make much sense...

Chandler: MUCH sense?

[Thanksgiving] Rachel: You know what we should do? We should play that game where everybody says what they're thankful for.

Joey: Oh! I should be thankful for the wonderful fall we've been having.

Everybody: YEAH!

Joey: I remember one day I was at the bus stop and this cool fall breeze came blowing out of nowhere and totally lifted this chick's skirt. Oh. And I'm also thankful for thongs.

[talking to Ross] Joey: I may only have a couple beers in me, but... I love you, man.

Chandler: I'm still on my first. I just think you're nice.

[Halloween costumes; Monica's Cat Woman and Phoebe's Super Girl]

Phoebe: Ah so we meet again oh Cat Woman

Monica: So we do oh Super Girl.

Phoebe: [Laughs] It's me, Phoebe.

Chandler: Hey Joey, where do Dutch people come from? Joey: Uh.. well the Pennsylvania Dutch come from Pennsylvania.

Chandler: and the other Dutch come from somewhere near the Netherlands right?

Joey: Nice try, see the Netherlands is this make believe place where Peter Pan and Tinkerbell come from.

[Ross is trying to cheer Chandler up who won't get out of his sweatpants]

Ross: C'mon man, just take em off, just take em off and we'll have some fun.

[Jack knows that Richard is dating a younger woman, but doesn't know that it's actually Monica] Jack Geller: Come on, tell us. Jack's friend: Yeah. Is she really 20?

Richard: I'm not telling you guys anything.

Jack Geller: Come on, Rich. It's my birthday, let me live vicariously.

Ross: Dad, you really don't want to do that.

Jack Geller: Ahh, what's a little mid-life crisis between friends?

Richard: Jack, would you let it go?

Jack Geller: Look, I know what you're going through. When I turned 50 I got my Porsche. You... you got your own speedster.

Richard: Guys, seriously, it's not like that.

Jack Geller: Tell you what, maybe one of these weekends you can borrow the car and I could- Ross: Dad, I beg you not to finish that sentence.

Chandler: Now, remember, Ben, keep your balance. Ben: Thanks, daddy. Ross: No, remember, Ben, two mommies, one daddy.

Compiled from livesinabox.com

We vs Our Country

2008-04-18T00:19:00.003+05:30

Okay...This was something I had written during June 07 during Gujjar-Meena riots. The recent hulla over reservations brought this topic again to my mind. Will write about my views on reservation policy soon.

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

A very dangerous example has been set by the Gujjar community of Rajasthan. If you want something, just get out on the streets in hundreds, burn buses, burn effigies of ministers, stone offices and police stations, block highways. In the process, you ofcourse lose some 'martyrs', but however outrageous your demands might be, the government is forced to negotiate. These are similar to the tantrums a child throws when he wants something, albeit on a larger scale. But what is shocking is the loss and destruction of government property during this.

The Gujjars wanted to be 'promoted' from OBC to ST status to avail better benefits from the reservation system. But starting from the government to the sociologists, everyone was against this as they didnt 'qualify' for the ST status. As thare was no defining criteria, the Gujjars did a weeklong protest in Rajasthan, which in its final stage extended even to Delhi. Now the Meena community, which has already been accorded the ST status didnt want to share the pie with the Gujjars, protested against their demands. The two communities clashed and conditions had worsened to a near civil war when the government intervened.

Now who did really suffer because of all this? Who else but the aam aadmi. Thousands of passengers were kept waiting in the railway stations and on the roads because all the rail and land routes were blocked. My heart goes out for those AIIMS aspirants, who could not give the test after a year's hard toil, because the trains to the exam centres were cancelled. Jaipur was completely cut-off from the rest of India. Buses were burnt, shops were destroyed and many people died in the clash. While all this was going on, the government looked on helplessly.

These violent protests are so common these days that I bet that you switch on your television and you will find at least one of the numerous news channels flashing something like 'PROTESTS IN PUNE' or 'STUDENTS GO ON A RAMPAGE IN BANGALORE' .

Some of the political parties so these to gain mileage. Shiv Sena will surely top the list. These self confessed moral police think they own everything and thus they can destroy everything. Recently, it bashed up computer cafe owners in Mumbai in the presence of the police. Their fault? Someone had created a community in Orkut slandering Bal Thackeray and Shiv Sena. Now, cummon guys, say that you dont need a reason for doing this, you just do it for fun right? And after creating havoc in the cafes, they said smilingly on screen, "We are mards". Of course, they are.

A sabjiwala was hit and the entire trader community went on a protest. A guy was killed in a hospital and the whole locality destroyed the hospital and heckled the doctors accusing them of negligence leading to his death. Every doctor then stopped working saying they have been mistreated. Now what we are doing is killing others because one guy was killed. Burning of theatres because of objectionable scene or dialouges in some obscure fim has become commonplace. We recently saw the destruction of a famous Art museum because some of the paintings didnt go with the taste of a political party.

I believe every country has attained its freedom through some kind of protest or revolt. The sepoy mutiny in 1857, Gandhi's non co-operation movement, Bhagat Singh's heroics all justify that. But the difference is that they had something against them. When are we going to understand that this is our country, this is our government, these are our people. What are we gaining by destroying our own property, by destroying ourselves? If we are against some policy, cant we resolve it in a peaceful manner without any wreckage and havoc?

A cult movie, Rang De Basanti surely inspired millions of Indians to come on the streets and seek justice for Jessica Lal. Candle protests were organised, uncountable SMSs were sent on moblies. No-one had expected the ferocity with which this social activism spread. And didnt we succeed? Where has that Indian gone? Are we taking out our frustrations on ourselves? I am not asking others to just become silent spectators. Their opinion matters as much as that of the President's. Everyone should come up with his views even if he is against the highest authority. But we should also take care that this country is ours, what we destroy is ours...

The 30 Questions

2008-04-16T22:52:00.002+05:30

1. Last movie you saw in a theater?
Requiem for a Dream... We had a film fiesta at our institute and it was the only film I saw there( at out institute theater)... I had seen it before but the ruthlessness and nakedness with which it deals with addiction made me watch it once again. I love it.

2. What book are you reading?
The Inimitable Jeeves by PG Wodehouse. I am so much loving the gentle humor and old wordly charm of the book.

3. Favorite board game?
I hate board games actually... Maybe chess

4. Favorite magazine?
I dont have a favourite. Generally read them without preference. Outlook, India Today, The Week, I love every magazine. Somedays back I was hooked to Readers Digest. Borrowed old copies from library and read them in class. But am over them now.

5. Favorite smells?
Oh I have this deo with me that has kind of a orange-y smell that i so love. Everytime I smell that, I wish I was drowned in an ocean filled with that smell.

6. Favorite sounds?
Must say the light strumming of guitar strings is my favourite. And yeah the chirping of birds during a wonderful winter morning comes close.

7. Worst feeling in the world?
Whenever I am engulfed by that inferiority complex, I feel I am gonna fall and break to pieces, only that the fall doesnt end quite soon. That I think is the worst feeling.

8. What is the first thing you think of when you wake up?
Will the prof give me attendance if I go now? Thats what I think. And if the answer is in negative, I just go back to my wonderful sleep.

9. Favorite fast food place?
Oh how I miss that wonderful little place by the school tuiton where all we friends used to gather and have double rounds of rolls n soups.

10. Future child’s name?
Havent really thought about that. Will have to consult with my future wife...Hey anyone listening???

11. Finish this statement. “If I had lot of money I’d….?”
Spend a lot. I am really a believer of "Have it, Flaunt it" philosophy...Dont have much belief in saving and all...

12. Do you drive fast?
Yeah, sometimes when I am in the mood. Though I am half baked in driving a car.

13. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?
What the ???

14. Storms - cool or scary?
Cool. Love the harsh winds, the noise, the lightning.

15. What was your first car?
Nah, Havent got myself a car. But have decided which one it ll be.

16. Favorite drink?
Maybe choclate vanilla shake. I would love to say any alcohol...that would be cool but really I hate them.

17. Finish this statement, “If I had the time I would….”?
Sleep...Thats what I do with most of my time anyhow.

18. Do you eat the stems on broccoli?
I hate brocoli...forget the stems...

19. If you could dye your hair any color, what would be your choice?
Nah! I love the natural...black it is.

20. Name all the different cities/towns you’ve lived in?
Puri( I was born here. A nice coastal city that is reluctant to advancement),Berhampur (Lived for most of life here),Bhubaneswar (Love the crowds and girls ;) ),Rourkela (Presently studying here.Extreme heat, extreme rains, everything extreme here)

21. Favorite sports to watch?
Cricket, Soccer, Tennis ( strictly in that order)

22. One nice thing about the person who sent this to you?
I love her candid writings written with all innocence and wit. Its like eating a salty snack with something damn sweet...and it tastes real good, mind you.

23. What’s under your bed?
A bucket which cries at being not used regualrly, my travel bag, sometimes old newspapers. As messy as I am, you would find a hell lot of things under my bed.

24. Would you like to be born as yourself again?
What! Isnt this life enough?

25. Morning person, or night owl?
Now that is one question I can answer with as much conviction as I can answer what is one plus one. I can stay awake upto four easily watching a movie, chatting with friends or just like that but ask me to wake up at six even though I slept last afternoon, it would be as difficult for me as climbing Mt Everest. I guess I was supposed to live at the other side of the world.

26. Over easy, or sunny side up?
Sunny side up. That brings the fun.

27. Favorite place to relax?
Ohh many. but my fave would be my own room where I could just put on some light music on my lappy, kill all the lights and pretend to be dead. Thats my idea of relaxing. Most of the times do that after an exhausting lab session.

28. Favorite pie?
It sounds weird but I have never had a real pie. So favorite- pending.

29. Favorite ice cream flavor?
Of course choclate. Nothing comes close to that.

30. Of all the people you tagged this to, who’s most likely to respond first?
Difficult. Maybe Veens( Hey Veens dont dissapoint me.)

Okay. I tag Veens, Neha, Aditi "Jiggs" and Dave.

Bangalored and Houseless

2008-04-12T19:14:00.003+05:30

End sems will be starting on 28th. Still a lot more days left to xerox notes and start mugging. But I really wished the profs would let us rest in peace until that. But they have other plans I guess. Thank God the week is over now. With all the class tests, lab tests, viva and practicals, it was a hell of a week.Went to a nice restaurant “Rice n Spice” last night with two of my frinds. The food was good and I ended up having more than I needed. I was exhausted to the core and no wonder I slept upto 2:30 today and ended up missing lunch. Really hungry now...

I will be going on an internship to HMT( yeah the one whose watches your dad used to wear), Bangalore at Bellary Street. As I have no relatives at Bangalore, so it will be an experience for me staying on my own. But as you see, I will there only for a period of two months and so it will be difficult to get accomodation from what I have heard from my friends. So guys, if you know anyone who would like to sublet a room or want to add to another mess to their already existing one, please do tell me. I really really need that. Anything, even a PG option would be welcome for me. So do help me guyz....

If I Were A Girl

2008-04-08T19:05:00.005+05:30

Okay...So I was tagged by Aditi to list out 5 things I would do or like to do if I had a chance to change into the opposite sex...

1) I would like to flirt around and have sex with as many guys as possible...Yeah, that is sick but that would make me happy and the guys too...

2) Well...I would love to do a lesbo act with someone like Elisha Cuthbert or Katherine Heigl...Yeah that would be more feasible as a guy but then a lesbo act is so more fantastic and passionate... ;)

3) I would have really long hair and have a thick line of kohl on my eyes. I would be always dressed in jeans and tees. Thats the way I like girls and probably I would like myself that way too...

4) For a change, I would not have a thousand dresses, two thousand pairs of shoes and three thousand purses. Its like a rule with girls - the smaller the things get, the more numbers of them you got to have...

5) I would marry a rich useless old man, divorce him, have his money as alimony, buy a cool sports car, have a dude boyfriend and flaunt them both. Lol...

"My Crushes" Episode I

2008-03-31T19:55:00.011+05:30

Whenever I go to somebody's house, the first thing they ask me is "Would you like something to eat?" No, it has nothing to do with their hospitality; its just that I am so cadaverous that they fear I would die on them. Guys who meet me for the first time often ask me if I am preparing for the International "Whos the Thinnest" contest. Though being a firm believer in "Happy as Single" philosophy, yet I fall in love quite easily. If you have read Wodehouse, you can take me as Bingo Little who just falls "madly in love" with every girl he sees on the street. Since a kid, I have had innumerable crushes; so I thought it would be a good idea to list out the major ones. So heres the first episode of "My Crushes"

When I joined Enginnering, I had thought I would have the time of a lifetime. I would have like one girlfreind each year of my study and maybe some extras for the years I had missed. But when I enetered classroom, I had the shock of my life. We have just four girls in a class of sixty students.One reminds you of one of those village girls who has been given too much steroids by her coach to take part in some obscure athletic championship. The other one would surely get maternity leave if she asked the professors...I mean she is that plump. Then theres the other one who wears glasses so thick that I often wonder if they are bullet-proof. And she is called "Chessboard" by the guys for obvious reasons. This leaves us with the fourth one. I would not call her beautiful but yeah her face is a familiar one. Lets call her Priyanka.

Well, the first time I saw Priyanka, she actually reminded me of my pet puppy. She had the same small nose, the same eyes. I was just waiting for her to jump towards me, barking with glee, wagging her tail, if she had one. I was really missing my puppy and I thought that this girl can surely fill the void. When I looked at her and smiled, she smiled back at me. This was the same smile when mu pup got a lice little bone to play with. I calculated that I had a 1/59 probability of getting her attention and so I decided that I must do something drastic. Valentine's day was coming near and I knew that this was the time to strike.

We have this club at our college that fools freshers into buying hand-made Love cards, Crush cards and things like that on Valentine's day. And most of the guys having come directly from all-boys school and nevr having seen the other 'variety' are duped into the trap. The club sends these cards to girls who half of the time dont get these cards and even if they get dont care to open them. I bought a card( not a hand made one though) with a beautiful quote with the hope that atleast that would impress her. Now, having seen a lot of romantic movies the day before, I decided on writing a love letter.( I curse that moment now.) Now this was my first love letter and I really didnt know the details like which paper to use and all that. After searching thoroughly, I decided upon those blank sheets on which we wrote our assignments for professors, got a pink pen from a friend( someone had told me that pink is the color of love and I really dont know why the hell he had a pink pen with him).

If God gave me a time machine on the condition that I couls use it only once, I would just go that fateful day and stop myself from sending that letter. How embarassing it is, man? Its like you were peeing outside when your girlfriend's friends catch you in the act with all your deficiencies( ahem...if you know what i mean). Seriously I had told just one friend about the letter but the next day, everyone came asking me "Hey was it you who wrote the love letter to Priyanka?". I got a couple of threats, a couple of encouragements, a couple of sympathies, a couple of advices. I even got a couple of requests for writing love letters the next Valentine's day. It was as if the whole college had lost interest in everything except me. And I hated it.

Can you imagine sending a love letter to a stranger? And that too so cheesy that you could spread it on your bread and eat it. I mean, in which century did they stop writing lines like "If there is one person in the whole world I would give my life for, it is you" (As if she would believe that and even if she did, as if I would believe that) or "The first time I saw you, the sky became bluer, the fields greener, the birds chirpier and my heart flutterier" (Man! What the hell is fluterrier?) If I got hold of that letter now, I would surely auction it as some vintage stuff. Even Shakespeare would be embarassed.

The next day, when I met her, she was like this puppy who had been picked up by a stranger and wanted desperately to get down. She never looked me in the eyes again. I never got to ask her what she felt. After some days, she got a boyfriend. The first time I saw them together, it was in my chemistry lab and I seriously wished I was like a Jeanie or something so that I would could get inside the test tube and drown in the obnoxious smelling chemical. Ofcourse it didnt happen and I lived to have a new crush. That was the end of my puppy love. Now ofcourse I Priyanka and puppies too.

Valentine's Day

2008-03-30T03:05:00.003+05:30

I am somewhat busy these days...and so couldnt update with a new post...So I am posting this link to my guest blog at Neha's...

Tomorrow is Valentine's Day and I don't have a girlfriend. What a sucker I am!

"Sneha!"
"What?", my sister woke up from her afternoon reverie of watching tele soaps.
"You have to get a girlfriend for me. Tomorrow I have a party at Sahil's and I cant go there alone. Please do something ", I pleaded.
"What! You think I am a pimp or something. Okay I will see. I will call my friend. Probably she will agree. "
"By the way, what are your plans for tomorrow?", I asked.
"There are some lovely Valentine's Day special programmes on tv. I wouldn't miss them."
"Of course you wouldn't. What better way to celebrate" I thought to myself but kept quiet.

The whole post... http://confessedsinner.blogspot.com/2008/03/editors-guest-skeptic-saint.html

Popstar - For Jiggs ;)

2008-03-25T01:21:00.002+05:30

I hope all of you have heard "Rockstar" by Nickelback. If you havent, theres a video alongside. Now Nickelback is one of my favorite bands with some mind blowing numbers like "If Everyone Cared", "How You Remind Me" and "Someday". I love this song "Rockstar" too. It has got such a satarical feel-good mood to it.

But wait till you hear this spoof of "Rockstar". Its titled "Popstar" and takes a dig on mainly Britney, Lindsay Lohan and Jessica Simpson. When I read Jiggy's post asking everyone not to abuse pop, the first thing I was reminded of was this video. :P The singer here is awesome and sounds eerily similar to Chad Kroeger, the lead singer of Nickelback. The lyrics are quite funny and oh, the video to go with it,I promise you will just see it again after you have seen it once.

Have fun! Will come up with a new 'real' post soon...

My Institute - Now and Then

2008-03-23T13:53:00.016+05:30

Well...Today, I got some old ( and I mean really old) photos of my institute. Its just beautiful to see that nothing much has changed over here. Here are some snaps of my institute - NIT Rourkela, now and then.

A view of my institute taken from a nearby hill... Doesnt it seem like Heaven?

Thats my dept building. BTW, my dept is mechanical engg.

Well...thats the workshop, where we mech guys spend most our time working on machines and tools :(

Thats the computer center...won my first multiplayer gaming competition here :)

Main insti building at night

Side Gate to the Institute

Main gate - connects us to the outside world

And now taking a dive into the past,

Institute Main Building, 1966 - Imagine a building of these dimensions in '66 :0

Institue Main Gate, 1971 - Read the quote below it...cool, huh?

The audio-visual hall being constructed,1971 ...We watch movies here now...

The dreaded workshop, 1971...Grrrr

The Hydraulics lab, 1966 ...Believe me, it still looks the same now...

Got some more wonderful pictures but will post them later...

The Doors Of Hope

2008-03-22T22:02:00.000+05:30

I am trapped in this dungeon
Misery and gloom everywhere
I cant see a thing, there's so much darkness
Have I gone blind?

Slimy moss all over, slimy creatures slithering on it
I don't belong here, I say to myself
I crawl towards the doors of hope
I can see a faint light outside

I see a white shadow looking at me with a scornful smile
Or is it just my fancy
Why am I so scared of him?
I wish this was a dream but I fear it isnt.

Tired and hungry, I don't want to play this game anymore
I want to go again to the quiet confines of my home
But where is my home, I seem to have forgotten
Was I always here, trapped?

Its freezing, the cold water dripping on my skin
The smell is biting, as if someone's dead
Or is it the stench of imminent death?
I ask myself, am I already dead, Is this hell?

Is someone looking for me outside
Or have I gone unnoticed
Everything's so slow, Is time really passing
I cant remember for how long I have been here

I crawl, slither, wriggle towards the doors of hope
Hoping to find light and bliss at the end
This hope keeps me alive
Keeps me from dying in this miserable cell called Life.

My Flesh, My Blood

2008-03-20T00:23:00.000+05:30

Have you ever seen a ship drowning in the sea? When the violent sea tries to drown the ship, the ship protests. It pleads with the sea to give it another chance, just one more. The cries of the people aboard the ship drowned by the tempestuos fury of the lightning. Rain lashing out on the deck as the violent sea steers the ship in random directions...

The whole post...http://writersblend.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-flesh-my-blood.html

The Days I Remember

2008-03-16T16:12:00.000+05:30

We had recently moved to our new house. It was not a big one but somehow I loved it at first sight. The area was just being developed and hence you could find plenty of open fields everywhere. If you moved a little distance, you could even see the mountains. We were the first ones to move into the locality but slowly other people came in. There was this lovely aunty who always gave me something to eat when I went to our house. There was also a group of young guys staying nearby preparing for some exam. These bhaiyas would often come asking for one thing or the other. As a young kid perhaps, you are fascinated by change. I loved putting my things in my room, deciding which poster to be pasted where and on which cupboard to put my favourite books.

My brother and I would sometimes move out in the evenings towards the canal. It was a lovely canal with a beautiful wooden bridge over it. There was also this small private park with wooden fences nearby which was our favourite spot. Whenever one of my friends came to my house, I always made them visit this one. To lie down on the cool green grass and look at the beautiful sunset on the mountains was one of my favourite pastime at that time.Sometimes we would ride on our cycles towards the endless fields. When it would be dark, we would hurry back narrating to each other all the ghost stories we knew. Back in the school,we would swear to everyone about the strange noises we heard over there making it sound the most exciting adventure we had ever had.

We used to play cricket in the evenings with the bhaiyas in the fields. When my mother was not there and we had a plastic ball, we used to play on the roof top. In the winters, we played badminton in the street lights until my mother gave a call that it was too late. Even the colony girls joined us in the game. Therefore, I always thought that badminton was a girly game. And yes, Tommy was always by my side when I played badminton. Tommy had a funny habit of digging up the soil at the exact spot where a new plant was planted, upsetting my father. I loved him. He died a few years back. That house had all my special memories. I was a bit sad when we had to move to the capital for a better college for myself. But then, as I said, you are always fascinated by change.

Coming to my family, I am glad that I have the best father in the world. I have seen all the different shades of him and I love each of them. He can be the strictest disciplinarian at one moment and the coolest dad at the other. He loved gardening. In the weekends, he would sometimes call me and teach how to prune a rose plant and show which manure is best for which plant. I have never been hit by him though my brother has been. Being the younger has its advantages, I guess. If we did something wrong, he would shout at us. But then if we cried, he would come and tickle us till he saw our smile. That was him! When we didnt have a car, he would take us on his scooter to all the pandals during the puja. Though my mother was a good cook, my father was the best. My mother gave the reins of the kitchen to my father during the special occasions and you cant just help licking your fingers when he made his special recipes. Its strange that I remember all the small but happy incidents about him. Guess thats the lovely thing about memories.

My mother is someone whom I could not even dream living without till I came to the hostel here. She was that special to me. With a lovely smile always on her face, she was ready to do anything for us. I always wondered if she had any personal dreams about herself as a child. If she had any, she never showed the dissapointment of sacrificing them for us. She was mad at keeping the house spic-and-span and I always got chided at for messing up the sofa or throwing bits of paper. I remember once when I had fever and could not sleep the whole night, she sat by me putting my head on her lap. Even till now, when I go home, it is my mother who feeds me with her hands. She was weak in no way but sometimes if we didnt listen to her, she silently cried. I am sorry, mom for every reason I have made you cry. I really really miss you.

My brother was always more level-headed than me. Some realtives would ask me to be like my brother. We were more like friends but when we fighted, even God feared to interfere. He was always more shy of the girls than me. Funny that now he has a girlfriend and not me. He was more studious but somehow, I always scored better than him. When we were small, my father always made it a point that when he brought something for him, he brought something for me too. Otherwise I would not talk to anyone till I got that. Now also when Papa got him a bike, he had to buy me a laptop in the same month. He had a childhood dream of becoming a doctor and some years from now, he would be one. I wish that everything he wishes comes true.

This puja, all of us were at home and it was wonderful. It was more special because we all live at different places now. My brother is at his Medical hostel, I am here, my father works at a different place while my mother stays at the new house in the capital. Sometime soon, my brother would go out for further studies while I will be working somewhere else. Guess how that small, sweet family has now been separated into four small parts, each carrying a small, sweet souvenir in their heart. Change is no more fascinating.

A Bird's Tale

2008-03-09T14:12:00.000+05:30

I love beaches. Back in my school and college days, whenever I was at my Uncle's, I would often go to the beach with my brother. He would go into the water with his friends while I just stayed behind. I sat on the sand with my naked feet being washed by the sea water while I looked at the boats struggling far inside. I loved spending my evenings alone there. With my arms hugging my knees and the earth slipping beneath my legs, I looked at the birds flying to their homes, against the orange sunset. The view was so beautiful that I had always wanted to be a part of it. I always dreamed about being a bird and flying away to some distant land, a land without care and worries, a land far away from this maddening crowd. I had always wanted to live their fairy tale life. But then one day, a wounded bird taught me what their life was, what real life was. This was a poem I had written during those days. Its a simple poem, nothing fancy, just like the birds and the sunset.

As I look at the vast blue sky
Sitting by the sea
Pondering over why everything
Is wrong with me

I look at the splendid white birds
Gliding over the sky
I wish I was one of them
And have the world to fly

Out of nowhere, a bird came
And sat by me
Bathed in the white moonlight
Oh! What a beauty

But why the pain in its eyes
I look at its legs, blood oozing out
But neither did it scream
Nor did it shout

Strangely I could hear it say
“Boy, with us, you want to fly
But you must know the darkness behind the sun
Before you should try

The dawn doesnt come twice to awaken us
Still, we fly miles from distant lands
To feed our hungry mouths
On these alien waters and these scorching sands

We risk our lives everyday
And then, everyday we begin
You just see the beauty
But everything beautiful is marred from within

But we never show the world our pains
For them, we just fly, sing and hum
Just try to be happy
And see how happy the world becomes

With these wise words
The bird flew away with glee
As I sat on the beach
Pondering over why everything is wrong with me

Talk Sex : The Indian Way

2008-03-06T19:10:00.000+05:30

This whole article has been written in a lighter vein and I wish nobody takes offence.

Imagine a scene...You are watching a nice movie with your father and suddenly the couple onscreen start becoming cozy, what would you do...
a) You could pretend nature was calling at the exact moment and lift your bum from the chair and go.
b) You could pretend the movie was boring and change the channel.
c) You could bravely watch the whole thing as if it were something you have watched since the time you peed in your pants.

The point here is how open are you with your father about sex. I am not that open. Hell, I dont even remember uttering the word anytime before him. Just remember when was the last time you had a sane discussion about sex with anybody. Anybody other than those college friends discussing fetishes which have nothing to do with normal sex as such. Are we so scared of sex that we never talk about it?

Why dont Indian parents believe in sex education, which has been such a success overseas? I will tell you what sex education in India is. Think a friend has come to your place and asks if he can pee. But as you live in an one-roomed flat, you dont even have a bathroom. (Dont ask me where you go to pee. At least you must be knowing that yourself). Now that is analogous to sex education. Both the sides are embarassed without the purpose being actually served. Leave sex education and remember that 'Reproductive System' class in school. The girls giggled while the guys listened intently as if this was their most important lesson in life. We had a beautiful madam teaching us but she was often asked awkward questions by an annoying boy like " Ma'm, can we have that 'intercourse' portion again?" or " Ma'm, would you mind touching on that 'erection' part? ". I guess no teacher has an answer for that.

Our parents believe sex will 'come' to us with age as was the case with them. Now thats some 'coming-of-age' story. So, does sex come? Yeah, it 'comes' through nasty porn movies, friends who know as much about sex as yourself and that newspaper guy who takes double the price for that sleazy magazine. No doubt all that sexual energy is bottled up inside us. Many remember the first porn they have seen. I dont remember the name but I have named it, "Veni Vidi Vomit" which roughly translates as "I came, I saw, I vommited"

Recently, Operation Park( Yeah the dumbos could not even find a better name) was launched in Bhubaneswar to catch young couples enjoying themselves at the park. Their fault- holding hands in public, sitting close to each other and saying romantic things, all non bailable offences under Indian Culture Act Section I-dont-know-what. The poor guys and gals had to jump over barricades and escape while those who were caught were flashed in newspapers with their faces blurred. So much for being liberal.

So, does our culture prevent us from talking about sex? What about Khajuraho and Kamasutra then? Well, actually the sculptors at Khajuraho were a group of horny guys who hadnt seen a woman in decades. With fingers wrapped around themselves ( pun intended), they sculpted an orgy scene on the temple wall. Now, the king( who was a bit of a loser himself in his sexual life) saw and tried that. He was immensely satisfied and asked the scluptors to fill the temple with erotica like that. And then was born Khajuraho. As for the story behind Kamasutra, I will tell it sometime later. So you see, Khajuraho and Kamasutra have nothing to do with Indian culture. Hence proved.

We, Indians are so hypocritical about sex. We will protest against a kiss on screen( remember Dhoom 2) but in the closed confines of our home, we will watch MMS clips of innocent couples robbed of their dignity and pride. We will watch phoren films with a nude Angelina Jolie and daydream about her but we will cry out aginst a Mallika Sherawat for wearing a bikini. We will never talk about sex as if we have never heard about it, but still some day soon, we will the most populous country in the whole goddamn world. Who said we reproduce, we just multiply.

So, the next time you are watching a film with your father and a sex scene comes up, calmly ask him, "Father, have you done this?" Thats called talking about sex.

Chicken Tikka and Whiskey

2008-03-03T00:15:00.000+05:30

My Tale

College is a perfect place to try out new things. Its the time when nerds try to become jocks and vice versa. People whose milk teeth havent gone down make cigarettes their staple diet. People who earlier had known only two samples of female species-mothers and sisters talk of girlfriends and sex with such conviction that it puts the 'experienced' ones to shame. I was my Mama's boy, you know, the ones who jump directly from their mother's aanchal to their wife's pallu without any transition state. So, when my best friend Sameer suggested that we should go drinking that night, I indeed wanted to kiss him.

I was really excited that day. You know, the excitement of taking a risk. The excitement while riding a roller-coaster, the excitement while copying during exams and the excitement while you pee in public. I had always been laughed at by my friends for not having touched a girl at the...ahem ..proper places. Perhaps, I wanted to prove that I was no less than that monstrous Rajeev who took a bottle of beer and a porn book even to the classroom. He was a God for mortals like us. And perhaps I thought that like the holy Ganga's water, a drink or two could alleviate the sins (my friends still preferred to call them sins) I had commited like not having a girlfriend.

So, in the evening, we went to the Tripti (yeah the owner named it so)restaurant, which stands out among the horde of other PETA sponsored restaurants where stray dogs and customers dine from the same plate. Sameer suggested that Chicken Tikka and Whiskey go well together. To be frank, this "going well together" business always goes out of my head. When people were busy discussing whether Abhisek and Aishwarya go well together, (like their child would decide the future of India) I avoided these as I assumed it was some sort of rocket science.

Finally,the coveted drink arrived. I gulped a peg. Yiieee...it tasted like cold urine...Still I didnt show the dissapointment on my face...After two or three pegs, the world seemed to be floating around me...or was I floating around the world...Whatever...I didnt know...And I dont remember much what happened after that. So I pass the baton to my best friend..

His Tale

I knew this pig would do it. Just look at his eyes, dancing to some unknown tune. I had always heard that getting drunk was an art. Now I see that this pig excelled in it.In the first stage, he became the wisest man ever, knowing of everything on this planet and elsewhere.Next, he started fantasizing that every woman swooned over him.

"Look, how that girl at the next table is smiling at me",he whispered.
I glanced in the direction he pointed and saw a frail old lady grinning sheepishly.
"Lets go. His boyfriend is looking angrily at you.", I whispered back.
He took a gulp and shouted angrily," What do you think I am? Cant I fight that old man for that beautiful lady?"
He had certainly reached the third stage. It was when one thinks he neednt fear anyone bacause he could beat anyone black-and-blue. It also made me think if only girls looked younger to him now.

Now before he reached the final stage(when one thinks himself to be invisible and does umm...embarassing things), I paid the waiter and with his help, took a taxi to our hostel.

We were nearing the college gate when he asked,"Driver, where are you going?"
"To the hostel saab"
"Do you also stay at the hostel?",he asked innocently.

Just then the guard stopped us. No taxis were allowed inside that night. We had to walk our way to the hostel, through the professors' quarters.

I put his one hand over my shoulder and was literally carrying him, when at a distance, I saw someone. No, it cant be... Oh no, it was my worst dream come true.

It was the 'Terrorist'. Now, the 'Terrorist' was one of our professor who threw at us jets of spit and monotonous drones all through the class while we stared at him open mouthed(and close eyed). He never seemed to understand that the guys could never stay awake at 7 in the morning when they had slept just an hour earlier. Legend was there that students jumped from the classroom window and died unable to hear his lectures. His name struck terror in the minds of the students and hence it was no misnomer.

He came from the opposite end.
"Hey, what happened to him?". He seemed to have recognised me as one of his victims.
"Umm..Nothing sir, just an epilepsy attack.", I managed to mumble.
"Well...then how will he attend the class tomorrow?".
I cursed him under my breath.He didnt make anything of my silence.
"Well...my brother is at home now. He is a doctor. Probably he can see him. Come to my house"
Now, his brother was a doctor? Now had being a doctor become this easy? The Terrorist's brother! They must have had different fathers, I reasoned.
I had heard that the Terrorist had a lovely daughter. As if reading my thoughts, he grunted, "Nobody's at home tonight. You can stay there for the night."

The Terrorist's brother was a tall and huge man, with a hearty laugh. His face seemed very lively compared to the apatheic face of the Terrorist. He bent over Sunil(who had woken up after all this commotion and was probably asking himself,"Main kahan hoon?"), smelled his mouth and said, "Serious epilepsy, indeed!"

Now, I was convinced that he belonged to the same family as the Terrorist indeed. He was by far a quack who called a drowsy alcoholic stupor an epilepsy. I didnt know whether to laugh or cry.

The Terrorist said disinterestedly, "Let him sleep here tonight."
To my relief, his brother poked in, " No, it wont do him any good. My driver will go and leave them at the hostel. What do you say, son?"
I just nodded my head, still unsure if all this happening was real.

The doctor came and helped me to get Sunil into his car. While his driver started the car, he winked at me giving his same hearty laugh with his paunch nodding at his every movement.

I was thinking to myself that this pig would surely remember his first drink for his entire lifetime. Just then Sunil said, "Driver, Where are you going?"
"To the hostel, sir"
"Do you also stay at the hostel?", he asked with the same innocence.

I asked the driver if he had some cotton with him.

I have done nothing all my life

2008-02-28T19:56:00.000+05:30

Who says nothing is impossible?
I have done nothing all my life.

A few months back, I celebrated my twentieth birthday. Being in my third of engineering, I will sit through the campus recruitment this July - August and next year, I will be a working professional with a salary my dad would be proud of( hopefully). When I think about it, I just have one thought in my head, "Isnt it too early?"

I fear my earlier days and the days that await me will be frightfully different. A year from now, I will be responsible for my decisions and I will be held acoountable for whatever the outcomes. Straight from the frivolous teens to the responsible twenties. Scary aint it? This morning in class, I was wondering where had those twenty years gone? Someone had said, "Life is what happens to you while you are busy making other plans." Seems so true for me.

The first thing that came to my mind was that I have slept through nearly 7 years( considering an average of 8 hours per day). Gawd! Wasted 7 years( How long it seems now) lying on my bed, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, doing nothing. But to be frank, to me those 7 years were the best years of my life. How else could you bash up the boy who always bullied you, or kiss the girl you have a crush on or even visit Heaven and return back. All this I have done while I was in deep slumber. I know I didnt have many bad dreams coz I dont remember many times when I woke up from bed screaming, "Ahhhhh" while my mother came running and soothed me, "Nothing son, It was just a bad dream."

The rest of the years, I have been happy,sad, and sometimes indifferent. There were moments when I was helped, encouraged and loved and also there were moments when I was ridiculed, humiliated and shunned away. All these have been done by those whom I have spent my life with all these days.Did I chose them? No! Did they choose me? No! We are just like strangers who met accidentally on a highway . But then these strangers have become so great a part in my life that I do everything to please them, to make them like me.They are the people who decide how good I am and how I feel everyday. Its they who make out whether you are beautiful or intelligent or just ordinary. When I look at it, my life seems more them than me.

In my twenty years, have I done something? Something at least that I can remember and say that I have done something.

Yes...there have been great moments in my life like when my brother got through his medical entrance exams or when we went to our new house or when she and me walked holding hand in hand through the beautful sunset or when I went home after my first stay in the hostel or whenever I see the beach or when I was the topper of my school and everybody congratulated me or when we did a play at school...But adding them up, they would be less than a month. A month of pure happiness in twenty years. Isnt it too less?

The rest of my life has been bland. Pretty ordinary! During my childhood, I have played games with kids to whom it would not have mattered if there was one guy less in their gang of a dozen. While at school, I read books, played pranks ...cricket too, teased girls, fought with boys, had secret crushes on teachers, won, lost... Pretty much what everyone does at school...Nothing something about it. I have been good academically and have recieved a few prizes but were they good moments. I would say no cause I dont even remember even the chief guest's face who gave me the prize. At college, I had two girlfreinds, not at a time but one after the other. But then I have never kissed them. God! I have never kissed a girl in twenty years of my life? I am so ashamed of myself. Where did I go wrong? Didnt I make the move at the proper time or the girls werent willing, I dont remember. Here in hostel, I spend my time sleeping, watching movies, playing computer games and doing nothing. Is my life of any good to anybody? Or is it any good to even myself? Probably not. Has my life been a waste? Have I done nothing in life worth something?

While I was pondering over this ,I remembered a story I had heard as a child. It goes like this...Many many years ago, in a far away kingdom, there lived a king. He was the most benevolent king in all the world. He once gave his two young sons a hundred gold coins each and asked them to spend it the way they wanted to. Both the sons went to the market at the end of the city. The younger son was mesmerised by the different colors, the different people. He found a hidden beauty underneath the hustle and bustle of the market . He bought a beautiful rainbow bird that had all the colors in the universe, he bought a pebble that shone like a star when kept facing the sun, he bought a wonderful paper cap that he had always wanted to have, he bought all the things which caught his fancy in the turmoil of the market. The elder son thought to himself, "What chaos! What disorder!" He had always wanted a certain thing since he was a child. None except him knew what he wanted and why he wanted it. But he knew that he would have to save all his coins for it. So he didnt buy the paper boat he liked or the wonderful wooden flute or the clay soldier. He just waited and waited... When the younger son returned,he had just a few coins left but his pocket was filled with things of no importance like a gray stone and a folded paper cap that didnt fit him. The elder son had all his gold coins left with him but he returned empty handed cause he didnt get the thing he was searching for.

Who do you think was happier?OK...There was no such story. I invented it on my own. But does not that summarize life? God has gifted us lives to spend the way we want. We live in this world which is almost like a busy market with commotion and chaos everywhere but we have to see the splendor, the beauty, the magnificience hidden. I have been the younger son who has spent much on useless things but then they were the things I liked the most. Sure the kids might not remember me, but I had loved playing with them. Sure everyone might do the same stuff I did at school, but I had the most fun doing them. Sure the girls might not have kissed me, but I have kissed them many times in my dreams. In the market of life, I have bought everything I wanted and I wanted them because I liked them. Sure they not be important, they may not be something to others but they are everything to me.

A Gay Story

2008-02-25T19:52:00.000+05:30

How long do I fake it? How long have I to live in this surreal world with my 'anomaly'? How long do I fear the acerbic bite of the tarantula if I let out who I am? How long have I to tremble fearing being the pariah? How long do I hide from the world that I am gay?

I still remember the day I had confessed to the priest what I was going through. He was shocked. He said it was a sin. He said I was going against the order of creation chalked out by Him. But I asked why was it a sin? It was God himself who had made me different and how could he punish me for the wrong he had done. Wasnt it God who had said that our greatest duty is to love all? Then how could I be a sinner when my heart was pure and love ran through my soul like blood. The all-knowing priest said that God had put me through a test and I shouldnt succumb to it. But his voice said that he understood that I had failed the test.

When i look at my childhood photographs, I wonder what brought this change in me? When did this convivial nonchalant kid turn into a morose creeper? I realised that as a small bud blooms into a flower, so has it been a slow transition for me, though without the fragnance.

I had a rosy childhood,having everything a kid dreams of. I was somewhat reticent but had many friends. I played in the open, singing songs in rhythm with the birds, catching butterflies and basking in the sun oblivious of the darkness that lay in front of me. When my friends learned that girls were to be looked upon differently and ogled at them and kissed the co-operative ones, I just shied away. They called me 'the saint' then.

Years seemed to fly by with happening in my barren life. I still remember that evening. I was returning from my class. It had been raining hard some hours before, the first rain of the season. I love it after the rains, the leaves a shiny green and everything looking bright and new as if washed out of all their evils. I saw him alight from the taxi and take out his belongings. The taxi whizzed past him splahing muddy water all over his trousers while he looked on helplessly. His tousled hair falling on his forehead,his wrongly buttoned shirt, the guitar strapped to his back all gave me a tangible pleasure.

I went upto him and said if I could help. He smiled. A cute smile! It was a small room, with a small window for ventilation. Little did I know then that it was in this room that I would be spending all my evenings henceforth and that small window would be my eyes to see the world. He was in college, had recently broken up with his girlfriend. That day, he played 'Feel' on his guitar, my favourite song.

I had a lovely dream that night. I had gone to his house. He gave me a hug. Not a tight embrace but a greeting hug. But I wanted to smell that sweet cologne from his neck for a longer time. We talked. We talked about music,pets,studies. We talked about things we were concerned about and things we were indifferent to. And then...he touched me...and touched me...and touched me.I cried when I woke up not because I regretted but because the dream was over.

We have been friends for over six months now.He often asks me why I look at him so lovingly? Will I be ever able to tell him why? Will he be ever able to understand that? No, he wouldnt. He would just wave his hand and say its a joke. What if I convince him that its not? And even if do it, what after that? He has got a life, he has got his own roads, he is not 'different'. Perhaps we would be friends even after that. I even now smile at the shock on my mother's face when I tell her this. She would send me to the local doctor as if it were a disease. How would my frigging homophobe friends react? They would laugh at me. They would paste 'Beware of Robbins' on the boys' restroom door. Some would say I am doing this for attention. Some would be sympathetic. I would be ousted from their groups.

Everyone would oust me. Would even God? I take a lot of sleeping pills from my mother's cupboard to have a nice sleep and wake up to a new tommorow where all this would be a lie, a nightmare.

They spun a web for me.
They spun a web for me.

Fear is God

2008-02-24T01:56:00.000+05:30

"The only thing we have to fear is fear itself."-FDR.

I think everyone here would agree with this. I also think that everyone here is a coward at heart. Some manage to hide their cowardice, some are defeated. And those who do not agree with me fear admitting this truth.

When did we start to fear and and who taught us to fear? Yes! Taught us! In my case, I believe it was mother, who always said," Look, the bogeyman's coming." whenever I used to do some mischief. And I see every parent using this technique. Perhaps, it is easier to manage a fearful child than a disturbing one. And look at the way a young boy and a young girl react to a lizard or a spider. The girl is terribly frightened at its sight while the boy laughs away. This is because the boy has been taught not to fear it while the girl has been taught to fear.

Fear is within everyone. Starting from a small child to an ageing man, everyone suffers from fear, anxiety and worries. Fear of socializing, fear of being ridiculed, fear of being rejected, fear of failure, fear of taking a risk, fear of death, fear of the dark, the list is endless...

Fear kills. And it kills you slowly. I used to fear rejection so much that I just avoided girls. I had become an undeserving person for myself. I had become a perverse, a recluse. I used to sit inside a closed room for hours and whine about why wasnt I as attractive as the guy at the mall or why wasnt I as tall as that girl's brother. The simple fear had instilled in me jealousy, wickedness, hatred and diffidence. I was not who I was.

They say theres only a forty percent chance that you will hit the goal in your maiden kick. But you will never hit it if you dont try at all. Still, people dont try fearing failure. I had a wonderful friend, with unique ideas and his trademark out-of-the-box thinking. But everytime, he used to sit in a corner, thinking that no one would like to hear him, thinking that he would be ridiculed as a Quixote, thinking that he was no-one. Fear is universal. I believe all of you would have your own fears. I would appreciate if you would be brave enough to tell them.

But are fears un-necessary? What would happen if we eliminate fears altogether? Would it be Utopia?

I remember a small incident from my childhood. There was a difficult question in our class test, which none could answer except one who copied it. When the results were out, I was angry at getting less marks than him and gave him a piece of my mouth. He looked at me with a baleful glare and said that I was a coward and feared the invigilator otherwise I would have done the same. I shouted back that I was not as bad as him.

Later in the night, I thought, what would have happened if there had been no invigilator during the exam? Wouldnt everyone have copied? Even if it was bad. Were we really giving our fears a name called goodness. And I realised that I was right.

If a big guy hits me in the face, I never hit him back. I say that I am good and its not in my nature to fight. But in my deepest psyche, I know that I fear him. I fear that he might hit me again.

What if the house owner had no fear and slept with all his valuables in the open. What if the robber had no fear of the police and robbed freely? What if I had no fear and kept a tiger as my pet? Would it be nice?

In a small story from one of Coelho's books, a village is inhabitated with dacoits,smugllers and robbers. Their leader, a dreaded dacoit himself is converted by a priest. He constructs a wooden gallows in the middle of the village, stands on it and asks everyone to forget their evil ways and start a new life. He never said why that gallows was erected but everyone knew. Whenever someone wanted to protest, the fear of the gallows prevented him. And soon, the village became home to farmers, traders and businessmen. We all have our gallows inside us. Whenever we are on the wrong path, this fear of the gallows prevents us.

Those in favour of capital punishment say that the fear of death will deter criminals from doing crimes. Fear of the law nips many a crimes at their buds. Sometimes, fear of God forces people to do good. Fear of being second forces one to try hard and be the numero uno. Fear of failure inspires someone to win. Fear of death inspires doctors to cure fatal diseases.

Fear saves. During heavy monsoons, a man feared the worst and asked the villagers to leave the village in due time. And true to his fears, there was a terrible flood but he was saved. His fear saved him. And others too.

Ask a son why he fears his father. He would say its respect. Ask a lover why he fears the day of separation. He would say its love. Ask UNO why it fears the Third World War. They would say it is humanity. Fear is good, fear is bad. Fear is everything, fear is everyone, fear is evrywhere. Fear is God.

Hostel

2008-02-22T20:34:00.000+05:30

I was walking through the long white corridors of my hostel. They seemed like a maze to me through which there was no escape. Not a soul could anywhere be seen. Each door was closed and everyone was engulfed in the darkness pretending to be dead. White tubelights flickering were casting a sinister shadow on the wall. It was like the evil gloominess following me wherever I went.

I turned the shower on. Chilling cold water was numbing my soul piercing my dress, my skin and my self. A single hot tear forced itself through my eye but it was drowned in the flood.

***********************

I came out of the shower excitedly, dressed myself looking into the mirror. A beaming face, with excitement writ all over, looked at me. After all, it was my birthday today. From the stairs, I could see my father sitting at the dining table and having his breakfast. With a leaping heart and jumping feet, I ran towards him.

Crash!
The lovely vase was down into a hundred pieces. Deafening silence!

"You good-for-nothing fellow, dont you have any work other than jumping and breking things dearer than you."

My eyes were fixed on a painting of a ship caught in the storm. I was remembering what had actuated me to paint that.

"Say something, you lousy thing. How long we have to tolerate your idiosyncrasies? Its enough! You are going to the hostel tomorrow."

My mother looked sympathetically at my father. Didnt she have any sympathy for me?

I ran back into my room thinking what my worth was. Even the inanimate vase was dearer than me. I had everything, still I had nothing. When I wanted my mother to feed me, all I got was, "The food is in the freezer. Have it when you are hungry." When I had fever and wanted someone to muss my hair, all I got were expensive medicines. When I wanted someone to share my laughs and cries, all I got were toys showered upon me. I was never a son for my parents. I was just a medium through which they could show how affluent they were. I was no-one.

********************

The dull thud of my wet slippers pierced the silent night like a dagger. Water dripping from my clothes was leaving a trail on the concrete floor. The stairs to the roof were too steep for my tired legs. Pale moonlight covered the roof like a white carpet. The stars were twinkling as laughing among themselves at my plight.

At a distance, I could see smoke from the fire the guard had lit up to brave the cold.

***********************

I coughed as the smoke blew into my face.

"So you dont smoke cigarettes, huh?", barked a senior.
I didnt say anything
"Take this."
I took a puff. It left a hot burning sensation in my throat. Tears had welled up in my eyes.
"Kneel down, you bastard!"
I knelt down. The sound of my breathing was so heavy for me that it drowned out the outside noise.

"Lick my shoes!"
I looked at him pleadingly.
"Do as I say, you frigging idiot!"

The fear and torment in my eyes made him laugh. That hyena laugh taught me something. That he too was a victim. That he too had once looked with such pleading eyes at a ruthless senior. That he was here to share what he had learnt from this world.

The leather tasted of stale, sweaty skin.

***************************

My breath now made me aware of that stale odour emanating from my mouth.

The trees on the other side of the roof were swaying their branches as if inviting me to come to them. The breeze whistled past my ears, "Come to us, come to us". The pale moonlight was saying, "This world is not yours. Come to our world, your world!"

I as walking in a trance towards the end of the roof. I thought of my mother. Would she remember me when I'm gone? Would she cry for me? Would anybody cry? Was I no-one? Didnt I belong to this world?

The trees, the breeze, the moon all had got a new friend in their world, my world...

The Loner

2008-02-19T22:31:00.000+05:30

Loner n A person who is often alone or who prefers to be alone , rather than with other people.

Thats what I am. Since childhood,since I remember. During family weddings,when the cousins would dance and sing and play and cry, I preferred sitting by the lake, looking at my undulating reflection in the water.Some people liked me for that; some didnt. I didnt care. Relatives would come and smile at me and worry about how thin I'm becoming while my mother would ask me to do Namaste. I preffered to keep myself away from all these bullshits. The same people who praised you fawningly in front of you would be bitching your ass out when you turn your back.

At school,boys hated me.The girls loved me. They would place bets among themselves to talk with me.All my joys,sorrows,laughs and tears were locked inside a small muscle called the heart.I never told my problems to anybody. I believed that "80% people did not care while the other 20% were glad you had them".

Even in my college,I stay in my room blowing the shit out of my ears listening to the loudest of music.I read a lot and hate the characters in them. I hate the self-confessed know-it-alls in my college.I hate the virgin girls trying every desperate effort to lose 'it'. And I hate myself for being in an shithole of a place.

* * *

I see a girl sitting on a corner bench in the classroom drawing figures in her notebook. A loner perhaps! I dont why(and till now I have no idea why) I go and talk to her.She gives me a cold glance and I step back. I forget her after that.Then after some days, I see the same girl in a restaurant crying alone.I go and join her.I ask about her and realise that I have found a she-myself. She says she hates her mother. I say I too. She says she hates her room-mates. I say I too. We talk about our simmilarities. We talk about ourselves. We are laughing. We have tears in our eyes.We are in love.

I go out with her everyday. My friends say-'See our loner friend has got himself a girlfriend'. Man! The day my lips touched hers, I realise I was wrong all this time. There's love everywhere. The day her soft skin grazes mine, I realise the pain my mother took in handling me.The day I make love to her, I realise I have stopped hating. And so has she. We love people.We love the couples making out in the garden. We love the chai-wallah,give him a smile and he adds more sugar to our tea. Our world becomes sweeter.

Then one day, in the same restaurant, in that same seat, we find a girl crying.Perhaps waiting for her loner friend to teach her love. We smile at each other.