The Chronicles of Narenia: The food, the ride and the Movie.
The whole day spent swatting flies,
With no regard for time as it dies.
Tons and tons of food lying around,
A cargo load which will run a ship aground.
There is nothing much on the idiot box,
Yet no motive for you to grab your socks.
You reminisce, look back, think and think,
With wine, and tea and coffee to drink.
There's mom to pamper you,
And dad to build your character,
And there's people whom you wish,
Boiled in their own stew,
As they begin their questionnaire,
About your life after you finish.
For me, home means loved ones, and copious amounts of food. Just 2 days into my winter vacations, and I am perennially full. We went for a week long trip (about which I'll blog soon), which was great fun!! For now, lets get back to food.
For all those lucky ones who are day scholars, you won't know what I am talking about. You might actually think I am mad, as home food is usually boring for you. I invite you to come eat at the IITM "mess". After a week, if you don't feel starved and see your bones stick out, and the thought of mess grub doesn't drive you crazy, I bow down to you. Thou art my Master and I fall at thee feet. Truly said, you won't know the value of anything unless you don't have it.
Driving gives me a high. Driving a car, riding a bike, cycling, driving you crazy, anything. Give me (a) vehicle, and I'll give you (the) path. Went for a long drive with the woman I love. Before your perverted and demented minds go haywire, your eyeballs bulge out and your eyebrows rise sky high, the woman is my mom. The drive was awesome!! The Hero Honda Pleasure I was riding is truly one. Want to go anywhere, just give me a tinkle*. At this point, I feel the desire to advertise myself:
Driving School = Rs. 2,000/-
License (Including bribes) = Rs. 1,000/-
Fuel = Rs. 300/-
Me = Priceless!!!
For everything else, there's everyone else.
And the Movie. I sat and watched Lawrence of Arabia this afternoon. It is a must watch. I don't wish to spoil the joy of watching it by telling you more about the movie.
Here are some of my pointers at the end of the day:
- Most females aren't worth what we think. Calvin was right all along. There are some who are just great, and reciprocate and reflect warmth and affection. And then there are some who just don't care. There are some who wait to talk to us, and some who reply in half-syllabic words, making most of the conversation an interview. And most of us guys end up hurting females who care about us. I apologize.
- Driving a gear less vehicle?? Wanna know how to overtake someone with a 180 cc vehicle? It's all about the timing. Just stay close to him, and when he shifts gear, you go full throttle. Our man gets psyched, and comes back with much greater speed, only to find you standing next to him at the next red signal. Keep doing this for sometime, and he will give up.
- Shop at FabIndia. Great place, silent and elegant. You get your money's worth. So, you now know what to get me for my birthday :) !!
*Conditions apply.
ps: I am known as Naren to all my relatives and close friends.
Viva la Dean!!!
No, obviously not for me. For the Dean.
Here are some excerpts from the Lab Viva.
----
Dean: Do you smoke??
Me: Sir, are you asking this question as the Dean or as a professor of the Department of Ocean Engineering??
Dean: I am asking this is as your professor.
Me: Sir, then I think it would be better if we don't deviate from our subject and attend to the matter at hand.
Dean: What impudence?? In that case, I am asking you this question as the Dean!!
Me: Then I have no business sitting at your office with all these lab reports in my hands on a fine Saturday morning sir.
----
At another point of the very same Viva:
Dean: You have copied all the reports. You are an unscrupulous cheat and a liar!!
Me: (Silence)
Dean: Speak up!! Can't you do a single thing on your own?? Is this what you have been taught all these years?? I don't see any originality in your reports. All the readings are the same, the graphs look the same, the write up contains similar words. What have you even learnt from the lab? How well to copy??
Me: ....
Dean: Are you going to open your mouth or not?
Me: Sir, 10 of us did the same experiment, with the same values. I think common sense states that we get the same readings and the same graphs. And since we did the same experiment, I think even the method written by us will be the same.
Dean: What if I prove that you have copied word to word??
Me: Sir, I accept that I have copied.
Dean: There you go. Is this why I have to come to class every Friday afternoon after lunch and take your class for an hour? You haven't even written the conclusion on your own. Have you even gone through the slides I showed you in the class??
Me: Sir, about the slides, if I may ask, how much of it is yours, originally? Except the 1st slide where you write your name and your impressive degrees and the last one where you thank us for not sleeping in your class, how much have you written it on your own??
----
Except that all this never happened. it was just another dream.
And the nightmare was mine.
I got a report resubmission, and I have been asked to re-appear for Viva. But writing about the actual Viva that would have made an awesomely boooorring story!!
About the topics chosen (smoking and copying!), it actually happened to 2 of my mates. And this is how I would have responded to the Dean, had I been there, hypothetically!!
And Viva la Dean?? Not even in your dreams!!
Pitch-forked!!!
After putting so many hours into practice, and paining people to listen to the song I was going to sing and asking them for suggestions, failing seems like a disgrace. And how!!!
This sem, I'd decided I would participate in as many events as possible, and get cracking on my communication skills and comfort levels on stage. It started off quite well, with mono-acting, which went off without a hitch. I wasn't even worried that I didn't get into the top 8. I did what many others can't, couldn't or wouldn't do. Even though picking Al Pacino's piece from 'Scent of a woman' was slightly over-ambitious, I didn't care. I did what best I could, and yes, there were people way better than me. Hats off to them!!
Then came Debate. I was earnest, that is, until Shaastra. After Shaastra, I was in no mood to do anything, reasons for which can't be given (chosen few people know about it!). I let down my LitSec in the process, for which I am sorry, I just couldn't help it. But Yay!! Tapti went into Debate finals (Kudos to Landu and Toolie for making it!!).
Light music (LM) Solo. I have been trying to sing in it for the past 2 years. I love this event, listening to all those singers gives me joy which can't be replicated anywhere else. I had been bumped at the audition stage itself the last 2 years, as we had really good singers in my hostel. This year, there was almost no one to sing, and I was happy that I was going to sing. Then this brainwave struck me that I should dedicate the song to someone (I put a lot of thought on how to dedicate it, but that's a different story which I'll tell later) , and so, I set about choosing a song.
I ended up with 'Ennavale adi ennavale', which suited the situation and the dedication to the T. But I couldn't get the song right, so, I tried 'Poo Vasam', and it too turned out to be a futile attempt. I finally narrowed it down to 'Maine tere liye hi Saath rang ke sapne' from the movie 'Anand', sung by Mukesh. Wonderful lyrics, and I was also singing it appreciably well, so I practiced it, along with Kashyap (a freshie!), who is a 'mini-stud' (as he says) at the keyboard. After hours of practice, and listening to the song over and over again, Murphy's law proved to be right: If anything bad can happen, it will.
I couldn't pick up the damn pitch right. The judge stopped me twice to tell that, and I still didn't get it right. I failed miserably. Good thing I didn't dedicate the song, I was planning on doing it after singing it. I wanted to dedicate something good, and not as hopeless as my song last night.
I am even unable to console myself saying that participation was important. I feel that line sucks. I wanted this to turn out right. I don't care about winning, but I wanted to get it right. I wanted the dedication to happen. I have no words for it.
Dramatics and Elocutions coming up next. Lets see how that goes.
Managing the Ants
A pained Hosteler (pH) - Wool, it's a pleasure meeting you. I am very happy to have got this opportunity to talk to you regarding your term as the GenSec of Tripti Hostel. Finally, junta will be getting to know the real Wool.
Wool (W) - Oh, hi!! It's a pleasure to talk to you too. I am a person who doesn't like much publicity and I often like to work behind the scenes. I have a request to make. Can I have a separate session with the photographer, as I have been practicing various poses and would like to try them out?
pH - Surely, Wool. But only after the interview. Now, our readers wish to know why you insist on being referred to as Mr. GenSec?
W - Sounds nice, doesn't it? And it also adds a certain punch. My post demands that authority and respect from junta. When the SportSec can have a cool sounding name like The Bhision, I figured why not I have something of that sort too?
pH - Okay. But doesn't it sound too pompous??
W - Come on, let me have a cool sounding name at least, if not a cool job.
pH - On to our next question Wool, why did you decide to run for the post of GenSec?
W - Oh, this was the only post where you required nothing but infinite knowledge and wisdom about shit.
pH - Were there any critical decisions that you had to take, till now?
W - Oh yes...
pH - Go on please. Could you please elaborate the situation and the steps you took?
W - Yeah, I am thinking about that. Mmmmm... er... once, there was no water in the hostel. I asked junta to wait till the next day, and lo and behold, there was water.
pH - Er... Could you talk of a real problem please?
W - Yes, one day, the housekeeping guy did a real bad job of cleaning the corridors. I called a meeting with the housekeeping guys, and had a brainstorming session with them and we all reached a decision, which was appreciated by all and sundry.
pH - Which was...?
W - That the guy who cleans the corridors should clean it with more concentration.
pH - What about the quadrangle lights, Wool? What steps have you taken to ensure that they are put up soon?
W - Whenever the engineer comes, I give him The Job and tell him what I expect from him. But looks like giving him The Job is not working. Wing junta are behind my balls now.
pH - We received some rumors about an Ant Attack you recently had to endure. Are they true?
W - Yes indeed!! I had a very harrowing time.
pH - Could you tell us what happened please?
W - I had my management examination, and I woke up rather late for it. I had to rush, and I took off a trouser at random and wore it. After some time, I experienced an itching sensation near my ****** (beep) area, and it worsened while in the exam hall.
pH - So, how did the exam go, Wool??
W - Ever have an army of ants attack you? Hordes and hordes of them??
pH - Er... no. So, essentially, you got raped by a gang of ants. What do you think they were after?
W - I would have to say that they were behind my Laddoos. Little did they know that they are no longer there. (Laughs)
pH - Oh, so, the wing junta are not the only one after your.... er... Laddoos, you call em??
W - I think that would be it for now. I have an emergency to attend to. Some dustbins have been overturned by some monkeys, and I have to set em right.
pH - Ok. Thanks a lot for your time, Wool. We wish you success on all your endeavors. One final question. Are you planning to run for the elections again?
W - Haha!! Keep guessing.
God...
Philosophy seems to have become a way of life for him nowadays. An example -
Mishra, 2 years back -
Q: Dude, why did the chicken cross the road??
A: The answer is something that is archived deep in the Nalanda university library and only Mishraite scholars are allowed to access. But we have reason to believe that it is something related to Copernicus' statement about the Sun being the center of the Solar system.
Mishra, Now-
Q: Dude, why did the chicken cross the road??
A: First tell me this, why should it cross the road?
Q: Machan, that is the question da. Answer.
A: Of what use is it to you that I answer the question? Does it solve any higher purpose? Does my answering your question affect your future in any way??
Q: Can't you give a straightforward answer??
A: First tell me, what is an answer. Is there an answer to any question? Is there any question at all? And is there any thing that is straightforward??
Obviously, you give up. No one has ever been able to get a straight answer from him, and no one ever will.
The sugar industry in India is thriving because of Mishra. For a cup of sugar solution, he puts 2 teaspoons of tea powder. When asked about the danger of him getting diabetes, he had just one answer "What exactly is danger?? Define danger. Is there not danger in everything??". Rajnikanth's next movie is a take on Mishra's life and ideals. Rajnikanth is believed to have stayed with him over the past summer to learn the intricacies of Mishra's life.
When asked about his experiences when living with Mishra, he said it was an experience that can't be put into words and it will be very difficult to enact his role. He also said that it will be his first movie without a heroine, which will be a welcome change from prancing around with a girl in her 20s.
What is Mishra really like? What are his innermost thoughts? What are his fantasies, his dreams? These are questions that are currently being answered at MISHRA (Mishra's Institute for Scientific, Holistic and Rational Approach).
Next: Mishra, as a dude!!
Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus
For all those not enthused by the magical word of Harry Potter, the title translates to "Never poke a sleeping dragon". To face an IITan's ire, you don't need to rile him up, or sound off heavy dialogues, or challenge him to do the impossible. Where strong words don't stoke fire, waking him up from sleep does. Here are some things an IITan hopes he never wakes up to (not in any order)...
- Classes. This is a classic case of hoping against hope. For all those who are not shackled by the attendance rule, you might not know what I am talking about.
- ID - Industrial Design. Looking up at Prof. Raghuprakash's or Prof. Susie Verghese's face and listening to them drone about an ecologically efficient pen early in the day is not how you want to start it off.
- Grub at mess. Need I say more??
- Message from your Class Rep announcing that the afternoon class has been advanced to the first hour.
- For those without cycles, the walk to your respective departments, and being shunned by people (with cycles) you thought were friends.
- For those with cycles, the eternal fear that someone might ask you for a lift which makes you look at your front tire while you ride.
- Finding out that there is not a drop of water in the hostel to perform your daily ablutions.
- Waking up, and finding that you have missed the quiz.
- A message from a Muggu asking you "Whether the sum given in the class yesterday is to be solved by the unitary or non-unitary Fourier transform?"
- Another message from the same guy telling you that he has solved by both ways, but the 3rd decimal doesn't match in the answers.
- A call from your father's colleague's wife's cousin's colleague, who wishes to talk to you about his son's preparation for JEE.
- Himesh Reshammiya's "voice".
- A guy imitating Himesh Reshammiya.
- A freshie asking you to put Branch Change fundaes.
- The same freshie asking you about job prospects after the 4th year.
- A Gtalk ping, asking you whether you are crashing, when your status message proclaims exactly that.
- An arbit guy, whom you have never seen before or heard of before, asking you to vote for him as the Insti GenSec.
- A freshie asking you for his cycle keys, which you took about a week back.
- The same freshie coming back in 5 minutes to ask you where the cycle is.
This list is non - exhaustive. Other ideas and methods are welcome at the comments section.
Rantings...
One of the main things bothering me this semester is acads. It bothers all of us, doesn't it? There is a difference though: This is the first semester where I feel I am not going to cup (or fail) in any course. In my previous 4 semesters, there has been at least one course where I felt I will surely cup, but I scraped through (Linear Algebra still gives me the jitters!). And this semester, I also have more than 95% attendance in all courses. The reason is not the new attendance rule, stupid as it might be. My department is in a corner of IITM, and our slots are usually one after the other. So, it is a pain to go there, bunk a class and come back all the way to the hostel.
Prof. Bhattacharya. Love him. No prof has used the word smart with me before. When it comes to adjectives and profs, the profs usually end up choosing the worst adjectives to describe me. This case was no different. He called me over-smart. For telling him that the answer is an approximate 0.9 (which was wrong, anyway!). When was the last time you had to write a leave letter? 10th standard in school might be the average answer. I was asked to write one, just because I bunked a class of his, the reason being a back sprain (Thanks a lot, mamme, for helping me with the format!!). Prof. Bhattacharya might fill up the entire blog, if I went on about him.
Prof. Surendran, Ph.D. Yokohoma, Japan. I see that on every handout he gives. I don't remember if he puts them on the question papers too. I always think of reminding him that every prof here is a Ph.D. A very nice prof, loves talking to his students. Laughs for anything but a joke, but keeps the class happy, and dazed. I don't understand whatever he teaches. I initially thought it was Korean, but later realized it was all Greek. Pains us a lot in the lab, but ends up giving ok marks. Gets excited at the thought of Korea, or Kochi. And he is one prof who makes even PK Nag (Thermodynamics) and RL Harrington (Marine Engineering) bed time story books. I doubt whether many profs could do that.
Toolie, my GenSec. Also known as Gandhi, mere Baap. A retarded individual who prefers reading yesterday's news today (Times of India!!). My best critic. Who else will have the audacity to wake me up on a fine Sunday morning to say that my sequel of the pseud putter blog "was an overkill, wasn't that great or funny!"?? Tells me whatever he wants to my face, knowing fully well that I could thrash him (I would hurt a fly rather than toolie!). Probably the best GenSec (I am expecting a treat for this!!) Tapti has ever had. Always on the lookout for them to break up, so that he could swoop in and sweep the lady off her legs. The swooping or the sweeping never has happened, and we doubt whether it will. Some say that he took up the cookery contest (yeah, you heard it right!!) coordship to impress the lady. Can someone please tell him that the saying is "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach" and not the other way round? More light on him will be thrown in blogs to come.
Insti aka Vikram. My best friend for hundreds of miles. My live-in roommate for past some days. He claims that his girl scares the living daylights outta him. One of the main reasons why I was tagged gay in my first semester. And it's deja vu again!! Brainy chap. Eats very slow. You can have breakfast with him and then come back for lunch to see him finishing up his breakfast. Recently given the security coordship in Saarang. He looks anything but a security coord. Skinny, mental monkey, as someone describes him. He must have made more visits to a hospital than the Union Health Minister himself this year. Sources tell me that the doctors and the nurses miss him.
Ayush. I miss the vision, man. Shaastra and quizzes have kept him busy. I will blog the full vision speech someday.
Kannada, a lovely language. As I wasn't learning anything of value here, I thought I would go at least learn a few languages. Knowing Tamizh and Telugu is a big advantage when learning Kannada. But don't make mistakes, like the one I just made. I went and asked busty" Maga, snanagay Hogona??", which essentially translates to "Will you come to bathe with me??". I will be starting on "Learn Kannada in 30 days" after my quizzes end. Shall blog about the experiences soon.
Condom. I think I ought to call him Condom(e). Has a shiny, bright, new head on his shoulders. Plays football with utmost cool. Lazy chap, he could have made in to the insti team if he tried his best. Has this new thing of sticking whatever poster he gets in his room. Has the most virus-infected comp in the wing. His definition of cool varies like a sine-curve. So, you find him affable and friendly one day, and rude and nasty the next day. Loves the mess food, eats it with great gusto. Babes? He's the right person to catch. Fundaes on babes?? KK is better.
... is an art, a gift. You can't learn how to pain people. You are born a pain God, or you aren't. There is no gray area. Many of the world's greatest are pain gods! From great poets, novelists, writers, lyricists to economists, physicists and even many of the Nobel Prize winners, there have been people who were regarded as pain gawds of their times. And some of them are so difficult to emulate, that no one now can come close to them. You must be wondering who all these great people are. Go find out!!
See, that is exactly how to pain people. Wait, there's more.
Actually, there's no more to that. Let's move on, shall we??
So, if there is no way you can learn how to pain people, why this blog? The reasons are fourfold:
1) To pain you.
2) To pain you.
3) To pain you.
Aren't you bored already?? Pained?? Unable to read on?? I know that you will read on, so here's more.
Actually, there is no more. That's all is there to it.
Gotcha!! So, read on.
To pain someone, you needn't know him or her. Experience tells me that it is easier to pain a girl than a guy. There are numerous ways one can pain a girl. To pain a guy, you need to know a little more about him to pick up the relevant topics and pain him. To pain a girl, any topic will do. Like for instance, I asked a girl (for which I am sorry, now!) whether she was committed or not. Off the hand, that might seem a very harmless question. But here's the catch: I didn't know who she was, I was talking to her for the very first time, and that was my 3rd or 4th line to her, as far as I remember. We kept arguing back and forth, me always having the edge over her (girls tend to speak or even argue less about anything to strangers.) till I had to sign into my account from the account (my friend's) I was talking to her on.
So, why did she shout at me? It was such a harmless question. She could have rather answered it than argue with me about the legitimacy of such a question. Here, we are delving deeper into the psychological behavior of women, on which I will blog someday. So, lets pass on that.
Now, paining men proves to be little difficult. First of all, men don't talk to men they don't know, online. So, the chances that you might get a guy who is a sitting duck out there are very low. In that case, the only ones you pain are the ones you know. Now, the ones you know, already know that you pain people. So, there is much more resistance and even if men get pained, they don't accept it as easily as a women do (showing signs of anger is acceptance, ladies!!). So, how do you pain a man? You need to take up sensitive topics. By sensitive topics, I don't mean his sister. Now, that would be a very wrong thing to do and you might end up 6 feet under. So, what kind of topics are we looking at??
For instance, lets take flight tickets. You tell a guy that there is no way you could get a flight ticket that cheap. He gets riled up, talks about how he flew to his place with much lesser fare than that. Then you argue with him telling that things are changing and that he needs to keep up with the world. He starts quoting prices each airline offers, and then you tell him that it ain't possible, or else the airline will go bankrupt. Then he puts a bet on the question, and asks you to place your bet. You say you have nothing to prove, so you won't bet. He has to prove his words, so let him show (you also keep adding that there is no way the price could be that low..). He starts cursing you, and the conversation shifts to your sister (Here, you can start about his sister. Be quick, before he graduates to someone else!). Then, you see him sitting on his computer, lashing out his fingers on the keyboard and going to various sites. In the meantime, you can hear him shout at the web page owner's sister, the net connection being too slow. You sit coolly, and keep muttering things like "Hey, India's GDP will go down if that is the case...", "Do you think they are fools to offer you flight travel at such low rates??", "Manchester United lost to Blackburn Rovers..". Now, that last sentence catches his ears and he turns to you, forgetting about the airline tickets. You start about the match enthusiastically, make up goals, bicycle kicks, et al and by the time you are finished, he would have forgotten all about the airline tickets. Now, someone walks in, as you finish the recital. You stand up, wave him goodbye, and as you go out, tell him "Hey, don't feel bad about the airline tickets man. We all forget sometimes. Nice that you accepted that the prices aren't that low. And I don't want the money you bet. It's between friends, what say??".
Now, it would really help if the person who came in last was there earlier when you started the argument. Cool it, you don't need to rush out from the room. He won't have any enthusiasm to argue now. But don't linger around too much.
I know what you are thinking. This blog is too much of a pain, or rather, boring. What the hell is this guy writing about? But you do know what I am doing, right?
So, what all do people usually get pained for? It depends on each individual, actually. Some people get pained for the easiest and the silliest of reasons, and some, like me, are very tough to pain. Yes, I am tough to pain. I might have used the words "Don't pain me" a million times, but I was just being considerate. If things go above a certain level, I can't stop myself from paining you, neither can you. But this blog is not about me, is it?? Lets go back to the topic.
Or shall we stop? You think this is enough? Getting bored, aren't you?? Some of you might even come up to me and ask me what kind of a stupid blog this is. But we both know that it ain't stupid. It's just that you got pained.
I have got lots more to say, but lets see whether you can finish reading this blog or not. Here's a small quiz -
1) How many times have I used pain or variations of pain in this post?
2) At how many points while reading this post, were you actually going to press the cancel button?
3) For this post, I have given the option of anonymous commenting. So, comment all you want, and try paining me.
4) When did Blackburn Rovers defeat Manchester United and by how much?? (They did. Google it out.)
5) How many reasons did I give for writing this post?
6) Why did I write this post?
The last question will be used as a tiebreaker question, so be nice to me. The winner will get one month's free material on Pain 101 - An introduction on how to pain people.
Love...
Love...
They met. It was another routine day. No breeze pushing strands of hair across her face, no stars in the sky worth lying down and watching, no shallowness of breath, no one's heart beat fast, or slow. They said the same things, asked the same things and talked the same things. As usual. Like everyday. They started yawning almost simultaneously and unanimously decided that they should go back to their rooms and sleep. Big deal. They knew as soon as the first yawn would come, they would part their ways. The "I love you"s were said and sweet dreams were wished. Monotonous. He squeezed her hand halfheartedly, and she patted him on the cheek lightly, as the finale of this evening's show. As he was going away, he messaged her "Love you, umma!", to get the same message back again. Even the owl watching them was almost shutting his eyes. They said goodbyes on the computer chat again. Blah!
He had had enough. He could take it no more. He was surely going to end it all the next day.
She experienced this feeling of relief every day. Every day. She had to end it. There was no other way.
And they slept. Cupid, watching all this, was pained. He could take it no more. He had to end it all.
That night, Cupid sent 2 of his emissaries to the boy's room, and ordered them to carry him off to a far off island. It was an island in every sense. You were either self sufficient or not. If you weren't, you had to make yourself one. The boy arrived, with only his clothes on.
The girl was left in her room. She had no inkling of what had happened.
The boy got up, and to his consternation, found the sunlight blinding his eyes. He looked around to find only trees and huge ones at that. He had none of his personal possessions, except his clothes. He started walking around. Everywhere looked the same. Some trees were huge, some small, but they were green, leafy trees alright. Finally, after a day's roaming around, he reached the water's edge, and gulped down lots of water. Never mind that it was salty.
The girl did her chores, went for work in the morning, came back, and freshened up for the evening's meeting with him. She went to the place they met everyday, and waited.
He had roots for food. And water. He found a cave, and to his surprise, found a pen and some sheets of paper. His joy lasted very few minutes, as he could find no bottles to write an SOS message. He slept.
She waited. A lot. The owl's eyes were bright with amazement. Never had this happened before. She went before she yawned.
It was early morning, and he got up to forage for some more roots, and if he's lucky, some fruits. He drank a lot of water, carried lots of it back to the cave in shells. He could find nothing more than roots, again. He came back early that evening. Again, he saw the pen and the paper. He couldn't resist the temptation. He had to write, even though he knew that there was no use writing anything.
She did her chores, went for work in the morning, came back, and freshened up for the evening's meeting with him. She went to the place they met everyday, and waited. Not too worried. It had happened before.
" Dear, I am missing you like never before. I love you. Thinking about you, I remember those days, when we used to go for those long walks. Aimless. Just ambling along. Talking sweet nothings in each other's ears. Eyes speaking up instead of our voices. Those days when we used to stop, stare at a songbird and listen to its sweet melody, hand in hand. Days when the moonlight struck your beautiful face and reflected light and warmth all around."
She came. Waited. Worried about him a little. Went back and slept. The owl widened its eyes.
Next morning, he couldn't find the paper he had written upon the previous night. He started worrying about his sustenance and went through his daily routine. He came back in the night, and took up the pen and paper again.
She had tears in her eyes. She wiped them constantly with her saree pallu and waited.
"Darling, I remember the times when the breeze pushed strands of your hair forward and the way you brushed your hair back. Those long fingers, when they used to touch me ever so slightly, used to spread warmth and tingled my toes. Those pristine white teeth, when they used to smile, gave me unsurpassed joy. Those huge, round, beautiful eyes. Whenever you looked at me, it was like arrows shot upon my heart. My blood just gushed out for you."
The owl looked at her. It seemed as if he wasn't the only one who spent a long night yesterday.
"Honey, you remember the day when you tore your sandals and I had to carry you along? You were so petite in my arms, like a flower about to blossom. Your arms wrapped around me felt like a garland of sweet smelling flowers, flowers that never wither. Those anklets on your feet. There was never a sweeter sound I have heard in my life. The sound they produced were resonant with my heart beat."
The owl didn't have to wait long to see her go. He was sad. He had no company.
"Love, those rosy lips of yours. When you used to drink water, I wished I was the water drop hitting your lips. I wish I was the hair tucked lovingly behind your ears. I wish I were the necklace around your neck, close to your heart. That ever so sweet gesture of you putting the necklace in your mouth when you are deep in thought is endearing. The way your eyes flutter when you talk sweet nothings is a sight I would give anything for. That coy gesture, shyness resplendent on your face, when I say something, is a sight I would never forget."
The owl was all alone.
"That sweet voice of yours, when it beckons me, I can follow it anywhere, even through hell. Those slender hips, creating fluid motions as you walked, was a treat to the eyes. I would give anything in this world possible to just see you once again. Just once. I want to hear that sweet voice of yours, feel that sway of your movements, hear the swishing of the saree pallu, see the flutter of your eyes. Just once."
The owl didn't even bother to look at the place.
The next morning, he found himself back at his room. He looked around, to find everything intact, and miraculously, he wasn't even tired. He ran to her room, and banged the door till she opened it. He was flabbergasted at the sight of her disheveled hair and puffy eyes. Before he could grasp the situation, there was a gushing sound of laughter, tears were falling down on him and kisses were raining everywhere on him. She didn't leave him, and they hugged for eternity. No one talked. They stayed in each other's arms the whole day. It felt like heaven.
The owl rejoiced. He had company. He flew about, knocking things out of his way, happily toowhit - toowhoo ing. He flew into her window, and accidentally knocked down a box of papers. They were all crumpled and looked like someone had poured water over them. He saw the words
" The way your eyes flutter when you talk sweet nothings is a sight I would give anything for. That coy gesture.........."
and understood. He rejoiced even more.
Cupid was happy. His plan worked. He sent his emissaries all over the world and asked them to get rid of mobile phones, computers and anything that tried to substitute the warmth and feeling of being in love. Have his emissaries come to you yet??
p.s.: I have been waiting to write and publish this for a very long time, but couldn't find the time to do so. And I dedicate this to love...
- Don't talk to strangers. By strangers, I mean the non-pseud putters. So, if you are seen with every Tom, Dick and Harry, the brotherhood will make sure you will be left with only Tom and Harry , and cut Dick out (You get what I mean??).
- It's not enough that you cock the cock, it also is important how you cock the cock. Never speak clearly except when on stage, or in sleep. It's important that you rush the words outta your mouth, stringing words together and using IITM lingo more than required. Blink only twice while speaking the whole sentence (Yes, just twice!!).
- Talking about Linkin' Park's new album will get you nowhere. Linkin' Park is common man's music. Make sure you know some arbitrary bands, with names that no one can relate to, and music that no one has ever heard of. And wherever you go, make sure you keep mentioning this band's name from time to time, lest you forget.
- When you attend a phone call, make sure you look at the caller's name, blink thrice, wonder out aloud what he/she could want from you, then pick up the call and shout out the person's name, so that anybody who missed out the fact that you are talking to a very important guy will get to know of it.
- If something surprising or shocking happens, no jaw dropping and gawking. You always know it, or expect it.
- As someone pointed out in my previous post, make sure you have a boyfriend or a girlfriend. If you don't (Or can't!), don't make them up, because handling two made up characters is tough, even for you (One of them is of course, you!!).
- Bags. Make sure its filled up with something, so that it always looks full. And as mentioned earlier, it should reach your butt. Any general bag wouldn't do, it should be a labeled (i-carbon, Jansport, Footloose,Nike, etc.) one. And it shouldn't look like anyone else's bag here.
- You should always have something arbitrary in mind to speak out suddenly, so that if another pseud putter comes and asks you something, you should tell that arbitrary statement and start laughing immediately. Obviously, people around you will not get it, so, you can be assured of complete secrecy (Assuming you understand what you are saying!).
- You must use as much lingo as possible, no matter whether it's relevant or not. For example, if someone tells you,"Dude, that was a great movie right?", you should be ready with something that goes like,"Macha, sli fight only. Hazzar pain are there."
- The word Macha, is not to spelled or pronounced in the way guys usually do. Go rather for Machcha, or Macjha, or even Maqczha (With a silent q, of course!!), whichever suits you the best.
- Try to point out defects in everyone. If you can't, you can successfully pull it off by generally telling, "He's a bulb."
- Not laughing at another pseud putter's "joke" is a sacrilege, so, laugh all you can. It's easy, seeing that you won't understand and you can cover it up by laughing. So, laugh till tears come out of your eyes. But don't overdo it, as the other guy might ask you to repeat his jokes to others and you will be caught in the process.
- Make sure you sit on the edge of your seat in class, ready to jump up and give the answer before the prof completes the question. And ask doubts just for the heck of it.
- Don't try to behave stupid, like not understanding something. There is nothing in this world that eludes you, and you know everything. If you don't, act as if you do.
- When time comes, you will have to fill up an application form for Saarang. Here's a clue on what you have to fill: It is nothin' formal, staying your witty self helps (9).
- Knowing how to play a guitar is a must. If you don't know, you should at least be able to hold all 5 fingers in front of your crotch and make scratching actions. This is an absolute necessity, as it helps when you are standing in the front row of WM in Saarang (The insti monkeys gawking at you might be a little uncomfortable, but who cares??).
- Ah, before I forget. Never break the code.
If you still don't know what the code is, scroll down.
Wondering what the code is?
You are supposed to know everything, remember? At least, act as if you do!
That was a small test to see how well you have grasped and understood the basics. And you have failed, miserably. Start all over again!!
- A very important thing, you should be able to emote through every part of your body(Being provocative helps in some cases!).
- A bag reaching your butt is a must, and it should sling around a lot. You should have it on your body at all times of the day, no matter where you go and what you do.
- Make sure your head is high up in the air, act as if you don't care about the lesser mortals around you.
- Your hands should be positioned in such a way that you can greet another PP(Pseud Putter!!) and at the same time, take out your cell phone and do some acrobatics with it like rotating it between your thumb and forefinger(Obviously you can't take the cell phone to call up or to attend a call, because an i-pod will be plugged to your ears).
- Wearing other accessories like sunglasses, caps, etc is your choice, as only you know what makes you look like "God".
- Make sure you do something (read weird!!) with your hair or mustache or beard. That's supposed to enhance your personality and take you into higher dimensions of .... whatever.
- You should have your own, characteristic and innovative way of greeting others, though I would personally recommend that you don't try giving the finger, or the Nazi salute.
- One of the prerequisites is to have at least an Apple i-pod, and to plug it into your ears, no matter where you go. If you are seen without those white wires hanging down your ears, you might be kicked outta the brotherhood.
- You must know how to talk the talk. Except in this case, it's how to cock the cock, or how to fart the fart.
- Due to their eternal fear of being spoken to or greeted by the lesser mortals, the brotherhood always moves in groups of more than 3, so that if the impending danger befalls them, they can start cocking the cock (If you still don't get it, read it as talking the talk!) and scare the attackers away.
- You must have the ability to take young, budding talent (Read freshies!) under your wing and try and develop them into something close to whatever you call yourself.
All said and done, pseud putters are very enthusiastic people, especially when it comes to literary activities and academics. They are determined individuals, who form an integral part of almost any activity in IITM.
Disclaimer: All characteristics described above are the essentials of a pseud putter, but it doesn't mean that a person having all those characteristics will necessarily be a pseud putter. And anyone having all those characteristics, but is not a pseud putter, Clap Clap Clap Clap Clap Clap!!
The Essence of Life...
Just then, a drop of cold, pure and crystal clear water fell on her, awakening her from the deep reverie. She felt cleansed and fresh. She slowly saw the other leaves also wake up to a beautiful morning, and was overjoyed at the thought of making new friends. Many aunt leaves called out to her, wishing her a good morning and many younger leaves were skeptical and even jealous about this new form of life. But things got off to a good start and Twiky soon became a strong favorite of many leaves. She grew in the loving care of her mother, without any care in the world. All she cared was for affection, and she got loads of that, what with so many aunts and uncles around.
Days went by, and Twiky got arrogant with all the care and affection showered upon her, and she refused to do her daily duties and preferred staying aloof from all other young leaves, wasting away the day in mundane things like dressing herself up too often. She even refused to show herself to the sun, worrying that she might end up being burnt by the sun and turn dark. One day, a few ants came searching for food and they saw a lush, green leaf next to Twiky's and started munching on it. The leaf called for Twiky to help, but to no avail as Twiky was busy pruning her leaf edges and she pretended not to hear. The leaf died a slow painful death, and all Twiky could think was of the chill creeping through her stem.
All the elders of the community were aghast by this incident, and reprimanded Twiky, only to find that their love and affection had taken her past all that level and she cared nought for them. One cloudy day, when Twiky was polishing her edges, a weird looking bird came, and its cry was unbearable to hear. It went round and round above the trees, making a screechy, weird and high pitch sound. Twiky was irritated by the bird and started calling out rude names to her. The other leaves tried shushing up Twiky, but to no avail. Twiky just went on and on till she had a sore throat, until a drizzle began to fall. Twiky always loved rains, because it kept her eternally clean and she could concentrate on something else like shaping her edges. The bird screeched even louder, as if it didn't like rains and went searching for cover. That was when the leaves came to know that the bird didn't like water. And they all went to sleep.
The next day was another beautiful day, with the golden sun waking Twiky up with its warm rays. That was when she first noticed the bird at close quarters. It was all scraggly, uncleaned and unwashed, with its feathers standing out at various angles. The bird gave an awful loud cry and took to the skies. Twiky, as usual, started calling out names. Then, Twiky noticed that the bird was closing upon her with an unnatural look in its fiery red eyes. The bird just swooped on Twiky and started trying to tear it off. For such a large bird, its beak was small and thin, and it couldn't do much. So, it stood on the branch where Twiky hung and started to tear Twiky off. Twiky shouted for help, with all her energy. She looked around only to see all her aunts friends cowering away from the bird.
Then, a drop of water fell on Twiky. She, surprised, looked up to find the skies clear. And then another drop fell, this time closer to the bird. Twiky, still surprised, tried looking all around to see if there was any help coming, but she couldn't see help coming. A few more drops fell upon her, startling her, and the bird too. Then, she saw a few green leaves floating down to the ground, surprising her even more, as this wasn't even winter. All of a sudden, many more drops fell on the bird and Twiky, and the bird was aghast at the water falling all over her. It was almost a full fledged drizzle and the bird almost gave up on Twiky, until a few more drops fell upon the bird, compelling her to fly away. A few more leaves fell.
Twiky, thankful for the drizzle, looked up to find that everything was almost barren. There were very less leaves hanging above her. And then she understood. All those water drops falling on her and the bird was sap falling from the leaves' stem, after the leaves broke themselves away from their stems.
A drop of water...
If the weather was any sign of how hot it was going to be, the people were an antithesis. The cold, glaring looks they gave me blinded me even more. I tried being amicable, smiling at people randomly, but I think I looked so foolish that they glared even more. I gave up, and followed my guide to the lodge. Maybe I shouldn't call it a lodge. But the name proclaimed it to be one, so I accepted it as one. I was taken directly to my room, which had windows facing both the West and the East, and I had the first taste of how my days were going to be. There was a small pitcher of water at the far end of the room, and a wooden cot somewhere near the Eastern window. I adapted to the whole fact, that the people had some personal vendetta against me and I wanted to get away as soon as possible.
The problem with the town was water. They just didn't have enough of it. While such a simple thing such as walking produced buckets and buckets of sweat, the poor dehydrated souls didn't have water to drink. They forgot how it tasted. The sound of water gurgling through their throat was the sound of music to them. The dry, parched lips could not smile anymore. The town, that had once been an good example to others, now was a not even an example. The townspeople had to walk a long distance to get water, and it wasn't even worth it. All these problems were due to one single person, named Seth. He had a large well in his bungalow and he just refused to part with it, even if people were dying. He allowed only one pitcher of water everyday, to every household.
And I was called upon to solve this problem. I was supremely confident that the Seth wouldn't agree to whatever I said, and I wanted to leave the town as soon as possible. But I wanted to try. And try I did. Everyday, I went to the Seth's house and negotiated with him in a different number of ways, came up with new proposals everyday, but to no avail. I decided to give him one last try. My patience was ebbing away and the people weren't being helpful at all. This time, I took along a child with me.
The child had tired drooping eyes, which were unnatural for that age. The eyelashes were almost gone. There was little or no hair on it's head. There were minuscule boils on it's head, which the child kept scratching away with it's tiny hands. The hands had broken skin here and there, which was filled with black dust. The lips were parched, and brittle. The child couldn't even open it's mouth to cry. It pained. The tiny, sharp nose was breathing out hot air, being the only organ which was functional, to an extent. The baby's mother had died two weeks back, with the baby at her bosom. It was so thin, sickly and frail. The hands didn't move, except for the continual scratching of the head. The legs didn't have enough strength to carry the baby's weight. It was one godforsaken, skeletal being.
The Seth was agitated on seeing me, again. He was even more agitated, if not aghast, on seeing me bring a rag doll into his mansion. Only when he saw the scratching he realized that it was another life form he was seeing. He offered me the daily quarter glass of water. I shone with happiness, that the steel tumbler glistened. I gleefully took it, and gulped it all down, in a single movement, when I realized that it was about four days since the baby had even seen a drop of pure water.
I went to put the tumbler back on the table, next to the babe, when a droplet of water sneaked out of my mouth. It hung there for a second, just a second. The light from the window shone upon it and the room filled up with some unnatural beauty. There were many colors and shades. The droplet then continued it's way down, and fell on the baby's lips. Then I saw, for the first time, a dark tongue roll out and lick away that single droplet of water with great relish. The child's eyes brightened, and a cool, soothing and unnatural cry came out of her lips. The baby started crying, which seemed so beautiful. The child gurgled, and I could see the water droplet moving down her throat. And then came the smile. The room filled up with an aura, that I never experienced before. The child's lips widened, painlessly and effortlessly. The eyes smiled, the hands and the legs danced in a movement of joy. It was there for an eternity. I felt so relaxed in the atmosphere, and was relishing every moment of it. I turned to look at the Seth and he was as amazed as myself. Then, the light faded out as quickly as it had come. I thought the moment of truth was over and turned to look at the child. The smile was still there.
I moved forward to pick up the child, only to find out that it went limp in my hands. The Seth fell on his knees and started to cry. And the baby, the baby was so serene, so beautiful to look at, that I believe God couldn't part with it and He took her away. I moved ever so slowly, and walked out of the house.
The next time I visited the village, it was lush and green.
I smiled...
I live in a cyclone, one that is relentless in it's fury,
I live in a strike of lightning, one that always strikes at the same place,
One that lightens everything up, if only for a moment.
I live in an avalanche, one that keeps boring down upon me,
One that never leaves it's job undone.
I live in a sandstorm, one that blinds me at inopportune moments,
One that makes every direction, direction less.
I live in a balloon, from which air may ebb out ever so slow,
Or just be gone in one short and painless moment.
I live in a book, one that doesn't have an author,
One that has only hope written all over it.
I live in space, one that is boundless,
One that is tranquil and frightening.
I live in time, one that waits for none,
One that none wait for.
I live in water, one that never quenches my thirst,
One that never keeps me afloat.
I live in gravity, one that keeps pulling me down,
One that never changes it's direction.
I live as one, one that is a no one,
One that no one ever is.
I live...

