Rantings...

posted under , , by Sudarshan J
This is just what the title proclaims it to be. Arbitrary ravings. I have a lot to rave and rant about. Who doesn't?

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.

KK. 15. I think he wants us all to call him 15. You see it on him most of the time. Step out of your room, and look towards KK's room, and within seconds, you will see him run out and grab the No. 15 and make a big show of dusting it. Make sure you are 2 rooms away when you see him do it, lest all the sweat from the jersey hit you. Yes, he's one of the best defenders the hostel is having and contending to be the Insti's best defender. Has Zukk!! fundaes about babes. But he is improving. Girls are known to talk to him from time to time. Has thinned down a lot since last semester, it might be due "to a rich asian girl (5)". IMDB is his lifeline, and till some months back, used to think he owned it. There was a simple test conducted. We asked him to name all his favorite movies. He rattled off the IMDB top 250. Then we asked him to go from bottom to top. He couldn't.


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.



Watch this space for more...




posted under , , by Sudarshan J
Paining people...

... 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...

posted under by Sudarshan J

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...


posted under , by Sudarshan J
And once you are in...

If you have followed all the points in the earlier post, you should be on your way to becoming a successful pseud putter at IITM. But it's tough, very tough to stay in the brotherhood once you are in, because you have to fight your natural instinct and try to do things in a 'different' way. Here are some pointers on what to do and what not to do...
  • 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!!

posted under , , by Sudarshan J
11 Ways to become a Pseud Putter at IITM


This is a very arbitrary topic I have chosen, because I seem to have this mental block about good topics to write on. Any resemblance to any character, living (or dead!!) is purely coincidental. And if u seem to think that your ways resemble some that are mentioned here, I can't help it, go change yourself if you are that bothered. So, without further ado, here I go....
  • 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...

posted under by Sudarshan J

This was taken on a recent trip to Goa. Goa impressed me with her beauty and virgin landscapes so much that I have taken a liking to Goa. This picture according to me, captures life. I would have written about it, but I leave it to your imagination. Enjoy.

posted under by Sudarshan J
Twiky, the leaf

The little one peeped out, receiving her first rays of golden red sunlight, and warmth. She was a young, light green color, innocent and raw. The bleak early morning sun smiled at the young life sprouting. The little one looked about herself, yawning and seeing the world drenched in nectar like dew. As she looked around, she was dazzled by numerous colors surrounding her, due to the refraction of the sun's rays through a droplet of pure, pristine water. Birds chirped merrily, worms scurried about and the other beings of the forest gladly welcomed the morning sun with a wholesome embrace. In such a serene and beautiful world, Twiky the leaf was born.

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.

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