'09-lessons learned:

Often the most trying circumstances are the ones that teach you a lesson or two. There are some mistakes you've got to make. Some tears you've got to shed. Some vile people need to enter your life. Bad things need to happen. Only then will you appreciate the good ones and also the not so bad ones.
These are the major occurrences of the year which put me through a lot of agony, which I now think, was quite unnecessary. This is both the comedy and tragedy of looking at things in retrospect. You either hit upon things that you should've had done/said or things you shouldn't have had.

Year 2009. New semester began. All was well. Was extremely happy to be assigned an interesting project. The desired modifications were challenging and the expectations, encouraging. The icing on the cake was that I was to continue with my old project team- people who were more than team members- they were the people I had come to regard as my closest friends in college since previous sem. I knew everything would go smooth just like previous sem. Like all previous sems. Nothing would go wrong. Except that, it did.
Egotism is something that harms not only the perpetrator, but also the people who are subjected to it. But with friends, or people you call friends anyway, one tends to overlook and let go a lot of things.I completely understood when they say they couldn't contribute to the designing as they had to take an entrance (which btw was totally unnecessary at that point of time), So I and another teammate started doing both our and their bits, like I knew they'd have done. We looked up, rejected , discarded, archived something like a thousand plausible circuits, were asked by our professor-who for some reason refused to treat students as a humans-to make a million changes in a strictly stipulated time. But a billion calculations and trillion taunts and more than two weeks later one prototype was finalized and hence I told myself happily that a work well begun is a work half done.
But the good project, like a lot of good projects, looked good only on paper. It is frustrating when something that seems to be so simple doesn't work. But we kept working anyway. Our friends were still on a self imposed study leave.
One fine day they returned and we gladly filled them in with what all progress we'd made. And then kept trying to get the output somehow. Wow! now this finally feels like team work. And even if something was funny, and the vibes I was getting were not so good-I was too happy to sense it. And then one day I took a leave for two days for some important reason, on the third day celebrated sari day with college friends :). And when I got back in the lab on the fourth day, I wondered if I had been in coma for four years! The prof called us to his lab to reprimand us because we'd been very insincere and in his words 'dummy members'. Because apparently according to our 'outta-leave-friends-cum-team mates' we didn't do anything. I think that's what 'are-you-fucking-kidding-me' moments are like. Feels like..you know..maybe the before and after Tsunami scenario. The ugly turn of events that followed this are too sordid and too painful for me to type. And honestly I don't want a record of it anyway. But from where I see it now, I think being thrown out of the project that I initiated and nurtured was not a bad thing after all. Because I saw the true hues of people, was able to differentiate my real friends from the phoney ones, did another project that was of much more use (no, the grapes are not sour :D), and proved my mettle to the prof who later went on to praise us in front of the same people who were responsible for the entire mess. No regrets. Yes, I feel bad that things can not be same as before but I also can't have it the other way. People backstab. Life's like that. Move on.


My friends were worried that I had not had a major crush in years. The last one was five years ago (from that time). They kept suggesting guys after guys and I kept pooh-poohing them, until the time for a big entry came. Entries, actually. This would remain one of the strangest events of my life. Two guys who share more than their names, zodiacs, languages, heights, builts, intelligence. At one point of time it was actually as thrilling as a movie :D. Both of them were so similar and yet so different. They came at about the same time, stayed for about the same time and I started liking both of them at about the same time. And then there's the very obvious dilemma. I couldn't figure out which one did I like more. First one- lovely, Second one-too good to be true. More proper tags would be- the simpler one and the stud. But it's always wise not hit on someone unless you're sure. In anycase I don't casually hit upon people. Something that I need to learn before the clock starts ticking, but that's not until I'm twenty five or six. So anyway, the stud kept offering me ride back home and I kept declining it. And even though I used to cite some feminist crap as the reason for not accepting his lifts, the real reason was that I got too conscious of myself every single time (Shit! my hair isn't even properly shampooed, why the hell am i wearing yellow :x ). But on one beautiful moonlit night (talking of nature playing it's part!) I sat behind him. I knew he was blabbering something, but I couldn't hear him. For my insides were doing conga and there were a thousand violins playing in my head. BUMP...BREAK..."..and that's when my girlfriend said..blah blah"
Whaaat??!!?? OK. So, the sound of the surroundings is back.And that my friend is how a card castle falls. Never laughed so hard-at myself. Matlab what's with life! He could've mentioned it anytime. Anytime in more than a year long aquaintance. But no! He had to mention it precisely at my movie moment. And soon after this incident he started boring me with his silly girlfriend talks. But if truth be told, the more he talked about his girlfriend the more relieved I got that the person he's talking about is not me. For one, he kept on referring to her as 'my girlfriend'. Till date I don't know her name. Neither do I have any curiosity for it. Hopefully I will never cross paths with him again. And the simpler one, I found out wasn't so simple after all! But at least he's still lovely. There are times when you can neither eat your cake nor have it. But that's because the cake is fungus infested and you can't see it! Life's like that. Move on :)


But these issues are way too trivial. Difficult was the part when Chikny left vikki :( But she's quite happy and honestly it doesn't matter that much, like she said it won't and like we agree it doesn't. Ok, it matters a little bit. But only a little bit. And it won't matter much when we'd move out the coming year. Although she is quite thrilled at the prospect. Now I wonder why :P

'09 taught Acceptance.
Letting good people into your life is important but equally important is to let the bad ones out-accept it.
When I say bad, I don't necessarily mean bad person. Maybe just bad for your focus and your long term happiness. Although some are downright bad! :P

And also, cliched though it might sound, but still needs some acceptance. Change is constant. People might go to different places but that doesn't mean they drift apart. Uttara didn't drift aaprt, did she? Definitely not. :)

"Acceptance is the first step of understanding and with understanding only can there be recovery"- Albus Dumbledore :)

PS: Might've quoted incorrectly. My memory is cursed!
PPS: Only if Dumbledore wasn't gay.. :P

Que sera sera

She knew it was coming, but she couldn't do anything about it. She predicted the fall of Troy. She foresaw everything, even her death. But nobody believed her, as she herself knew very well that nobody would, for she was cursed. And she knew she was cursed. So she did the next best thing-she went ahead and embraced her fate artistically, but not before giving it a tough fight. Brave girl Cassandra.

Ugh..I've been spending too much time on Wikipedia. I've been reading too much Roman mythology. And I've been watching too much war movies. Cruel, gory ones. I have no idea why the hell I'm doing this, but for the past couple of days I've been poring over every documented detail available on internet pertaining to the world wars. Infact I'm having this sudden urge to read Mein Kampf. Not exactly sudden though..I wanted to read it for sometime now.

No enthu to key further..
" Success comes to those who believe in it the most, and believe in it the longest. And we're going to believe"- Alec Baldwin ( Pearl Harbor)
Well..there's a distinct possibility that the citation may not be word to word correct, but meant more or less the same. And at this point of time, helps a lot in allaying my apprehensions.
Alec Baldwin reminds me that the new season of 30 Rock is neat! :)

PS: Hey, Que sera sera sera..jo bhi ho so ho!
PPS: Arbit it might seem, but trust me it's not. This is how I feel right now, and in the parlance of a completely confused person, this is the most appropriate thing to say. Que sera sera- Whatever will be, will be. I'm yet to listen to the Doris Day original version, but the Dixit-Deva dance was totally invigorating :)

days of life

Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace.
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child is far to go.
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for living.
And the child who is born on Sunday,
is healthy, wealthy, happy and gay.

Not one of the best opening lines for a post? Nonsensical. I know.
And yet I woke up with this nursery rhyme in my mind. I think I was reciting it in my dream..or was I? Dunno. But nothing new. I wake up every morning with a different song/poem/rhyme/jingle, planted absolutely randomly in my head. There have been 'Sirf ek saridon aur sardard se aaraam' mornings, as have been 'Ek chatur naar' mornings. Sometimes I wake up and sing ' hum honge kaamiyaab( I miss our music sir ;) ) and then on other occasions I have to quell my desire to sing sutta out loud. Yesterday, I sang the Nescafe jingle and sometime in this week I woke up crooning a beautiful english stanza of a hindi song(The one Elizabeth sings for Bhuvan in Lagaan :) ). Anyway, I've been singing this rhyme out loud, throughout the day. I've also borrowed Phoebe's 'Smelly Cat' tune for this. Works well. Really! That reminds me. I fed the cutest cat today :) It, like a lot other stray animals and especially birds, is my mother's discovery. One fine day, she must've heard a distant meowing and must've peeped down from the kitchen balcony only to spot a feline, conspicuously hungry.
This takes up the count of the numerous creatures to whose dietary requirements my mother is committed to. Half of our food grains, I suspect, are consumed by the birds she feeds twice a day ( thrice when she has holidays), and the nuts she argues, would go waste anyway if she doesn't give them to the squirrels-as I'm not too fond of 'em. Monkeys drop by infrequently, and are always welcome with chana, biscuits, bread, at times bananas. Dogs bark during mornings to get their regular dose of chappatis and when she has morning school on saturdays, she makes it a point of pack some food for the lonely,hungry cows on street. She never lets the house maid to leave until she's eaten her freshly prepared breakfast, and nobody in my living memory who has asked for food to my mother has ever returned empty-handed. She is so generous. All mothers are actually. They say one should judge a person by looking at how they treat their inferiors,not equals. If that be the parameter, she not only passes, she probably tops. The way she can bond with the house-maids,vegetable vendors, peons, sandwichwallahs..I can never blend in that well no matter how hard I try. I remember how I had to survey various people from different economical and social backgrounds for my twelfth class english project, and she practically did it for me. I didn't need to go to subjects as she already knew everything about them! I love her even more for all this than for the fact that she's my mother. I might not be as beautiful a soul as she is, but on some levels I think I have both inherited and imbibed a fraction of this philanthropic trait of hers. I wish I was half as nice as her. I'd be such a better person then. :)

Pray.Swear.Pray

There's something magical about prayers. And there's something magical about this universe. Not a revelation, I know. I'm neither the first person, nor will I be the last person to reaffirm the fact that there's more than Gravitational force that keeps this universe together.

I keep forgetting it everytime. But thankfully the mystique of someone's omnipresence doesn't elude one for a long time. Again this is something that I have exprienced in past (at one point exactly similar to this) and yet I forgot, yet I lost faith, yet I felt miserable, yet I blamed, yet I accused, yet I shouted my lungs out . Yet I mistrusted.

The reason of the temporary despair: Around evening- after the computer repair guy left, after half a dozen guests stormed into our home to wish us a 'Happy Diwali'(!!), after my friend asked me to a search a name for our team, after my mother came in for the fourth time in my room(and this time to positively rebuke) asking me to come in the hall to say the customary Namaste auntyjee-did I realize that I couldn't locate my cellphone. No issue! "Scrappy as I am, must've left it here somewhere" thought I. Besides when you have an angry mother standing right on top of your head who wants to drag you in front of a couple of middle-aged/aged conservative ladies so that you can play the perfect little miss sunshine, you have no choice but to put the less important issues like searching your cellphone(the search of which resulted futile even after fifteen odd minutes*panic*) in parenthesis and comply. And so for next two quarters of an hour I wore my fake smile and sat quietly listening to their prattling. But honestly, I didn't listen to any of it. My mind had already drifted. I was mentally tracking (or at least trying) all those places where I'm most likely to have kept it. I thought of a few, but it's hard to excuse youself out of a conversation (hugely one-sided as far as I am concerned) when you're trying to play miss goody-two-shoes! Funnily enough one of them tells me, everytime she visits, that apparently I have become..err..well rather nubile now! That is not odd. But what's odd is the way she keeps insinuating my mother that now she needs to be extra protective of me. "Kudi te jawaan ho gi hain aapki"(followed by an (un)intentional wink,which for some reason always turns out to be an eye irritation). Yes,yes! that's my mission in life-fooling around with lafandars who hitch-hike from one bus stop to another, don monkey-washed jeans teemed with fluorescent pink/orange/green shirts, wear gothic wristlets/fuck bands, look obliquely at you and sing 'Aashiq banaya aapne' Honestly! :X
It is not a surprise that this lady in question is a parochial fuddy-duddy who is convinced that the sole purpose of a woman's existence is to get married, cook, clean and rear children. But then I had read somewhere that it is the mark of an educated mind to humour an opinion without accepting it. Her family does that. My mother does that. And now that I've knowm her for years, so do I. But I must not be so nasty, because howsoever unprogressive she might be, she still is so warm and sweet to me.

So, anyway after these people left, the reckless hunt for the cell began, with no positive results. The habit of keeping the cell on the silent mode came as a slap on the face. After an hour and half worth of turning the house upside down it was hopelessly accepted that-in Britney Spears's words-'Oops I did it again!'
The thought of losing a cellphone is not as painful as the thought of losing it thrice. Thrice! And this time from within the house, under our noses. Under my nose. A year ago when I got this cell I promised that I'm not going to lose this one. I won't fail this time. I'm not going to be tagged careless, negligent, lackadaisical yet again. But I did.
When I lost my previous two cells, was upset-yes. But I got over it in the blink of an eye. My first cell was special(obviously!) but honestly I was relieved when it got lost. Ever since it came into my possession, things got awry. There were fights, unhappiness, acquiescence. No, I'm not getting superstitious here, because I'm dealing with facts. The cell got lost in a bus and as my college life aka bus life had just begun my parents thought that there was a distinct possibility that I'd lose it again so on someone's suggestion they got me a cheap model. That was my second cellphone which I grudgingly accepted. I hated it. It was a nondescript, boring model with no FM radio, no camera, no recorder, no likeable features at all. I resented it so much that in my lexicon the word cell was superseded by- Sony Ericsson cheapest model. I used this replacement everytime I spoke of my cell. Well, it was not the cheapest model,but to me it was. It was like "Hey, you wanna call home na, call from my sony ericsson cheapest model", or "Yaar tera naya number mere Sony Ericsson cheapest model mein nahi hain, give it to me asap", or when someone asked "Hey whose's phone is ringing?" I'd reply- "Oh! that would my Sony Ericsson cheapest model!" This phrase had gotten so inextricably associated with me that when this cell got lost I actually missed saying this phrase more than I missed the phone. And I know that however irritated they pretended to be, my friends miss it too ;)
More than a year ago, similar incident happened. I couldn't find my Sony Ericsson cheapest model and I panicked. After a troubled rummaging of the house it was declared lost. The spectrum of suspect zeroed down to the housemaid. But thanks to her irregular attitude towards coming to work, she didn't come on the day my mother intended to confront her. But wait a sec, did I say, she didn't come? Oooh! The plot thickens. Why would she do a bunk for no particular reason? The unsung Miss Marple awakened in my mother. But thank god before she could foray into this matter I found it in my jeans pocket and the impecunious, frail woman was saved of what would have been a fake accusation. But Lo and behold! Less than a month later I again lost it. This time, forever.
My father uses a phrase pretty often-Third time lucky. With this hope and belief, they got me a new cell. Like the previous time, this time also I expected a cheaper model-and ashamed as I was-I actually wanted a cheaper model. Cheaper than my Sony Ericsson cheapest model. But this time they got me a natty Nokia model. It was beautiful! I loved it from the moment I set my eyes on it. I would not only sleep with it, but also give it a share of my blanket during winters :)
Life more or less got back on the right track ever since I got it. It always brought me good news. And when not good, then at least not bad either. It got exalted to the status for which the first one was too jinxed and the Sony Ericsson cheapest model-well, it could've only dreamt of it.

So, today as I sat all torn up after losing my baby, it was nothing short of a paradise lost. All the memories. The spontaneous-college-fun videos, the no-cam-but-let's-pose-anyway pics, some beautiful messages, some amazing calls that still reverberate in my mind. The head-enhancement that has half deafened me lay in a nook, in hope that as soon as the night falls I'll unite it with it's counterpart so that it can get on with deafening me completely, not knowing that it might never happen again.
I, on some levels hoped that I'll find it the way I found my Sony Ericsson cheapest model. But then my mother said that she called on my cell and someone picked up and cut the call brusquely. The thin ray of hope faded. And I did precisely what the helpless lesser mortal does. I started a tirade against God and destiny and very hackneyed dialouges that begin with why-me. It is strange because I'm kind of an on-off believer. Mostly on, though.
I have a habit of making all sorts of promises when I'm desperate. I swear to do things if I get what I want. It worked when I was a child. 'God, I'm sorry! Please give me back my rubber (eraser to a prissy; such lah-di-dah people would give you very patronizing looks if you say rubber instead of eraser because apparently a rubber is a condom) and I swear I won't ask mum to buy me big babool for a week. I used to find my rubber the next instant. As an answer to my dilemma of disappearing and reappearing objects my mother used to fob me off with credible tales. She used to say that "When you misbehave, God takes something from you as a punishment and keeps it safely in his garden and as and when you realize your mistake and apologize for it he returns it to you". That's fair, I used to think.
But today when it didn't happen today I thought it's fair no more. Maybe it was nothing more than figments of my imagination. Although I got back an awful lot of stuff by praying,apologizing and swearing, but then hey! they didn't coin the word 'co-incidence' just like that.That was childhood codswallop. If it was true then then it should be true now. That's how the validity is checked. Superstition due to inability to trust oneself, that's what it is-this worship and all. So, it is established once and for all. There's no God and for argument's sake let's say even if there is one-what good is a God who cannot bring back a cellphone!
As I was thinking all this, I decided to write a blog on this. To key down my despodency, to proclaim my newfound profanity. I mentally jotted down the work that was needed to be done tomorrow, unnecessary trouble..uff..and then I thought of all those people who'd break their ribs when I break the news to them- Hahaha..again? Again! LOL! ROTFL! LMAO! You're eyeing the world record, aren't you? Hey don't discard the soldering wire so soon,it's not your cellphone! Are you still single because you haven't found someone who has a lost-after-a-year quality? So is this an annual event or are you planning to break in into semesters? Guess what's common between you and Ross? He has three failed marriages..and you-Hahahaha! huh :x
(My facebook status already shows some gracious comments that my dear well-wishers have posted). No, these thoughts didn't help calm my mind. But then something did. It's surface was gleaming. It read- 153 missed calls-Home (yeah, that was me!). The first thing I said before jumping up and down,all dignity forgotten, was-" Come to mama!" :)

And that my friend is how fairy tales end :)
Although the mystery of the phone being picked up by an arbit guy still remains a mystery. My mother stands by it. She says she heard it, never mind the call history. She also says that she srcutinized the bed with an eagle's eye-it was not there. Instead my staunch believer of life-is-stranger-than-fiction mother has a most regaling plausible explanation. She says that the man after hearing her voice obviously panicked (yes of course mamma ;) ) and threw the cell from the open door of the balcony. "But, that's not possible..if you look at the angle in whic.." "No no, I'm telling you, this is how it must've happened. Only if you stop fussing over my circumbulation in your room, I'd have actually caught him red-handed" she rests her case with indignation. :D
But nevermind the physics behind projectile motion, I honestly don't wish to tell her that she must've hallucinated. Sherlock Holmes mom with absurdly far-fetched tales is so much more fun than the regular mom :D

As for me, I feel bad that my mother still suspects the guy. Worse that even I buckled under pressure and suspected him for a moment. Worst, I got tilted towards sacrilege for few moments.
The thing is I was much closer to God as a child, so it was easier and faster to communicate and hence the delivery was instant. Of course I alone am responsible for this drifting apart. Thus, this is all the more belittling. The fact that one is always given a second,third,fourth...zillionth chance, the fact that God always listens and answers should be met with gratitude. I make crazy promises. But a promise made is tanatamount to a writing engraved in stone and has to be fulfilled because I swore I would do it. Be it staying away from chewing gums for a week, or being bereft of the pleasures of the social networking sites till..well, I'm not mentioning till when!
So this post is actually serving dual interests. Apart from quenching my long quelled desire to write, this also is a prelude to a self-imposed sabbatical from the networking sites. Not that it would make much of a difference. I more or less communicate with the same set of people in many other ways.

Ciao till I find something worthwhile to blog about-so long!

PS: Listen to Julia Roberts- Eat.Pray.Love
Listen to Neelanjana Basu-Pray.Swear.Pray :)

light, light, more light!

For a philanthropist the biggest festival, is undisputedly life. But in the beautiful country of India, where I live, a certain festival is larger than life.
Out of the conglomeration of a multitude of festivals that are attributed to the Indian soil, Diwali stands out for the shear amount of grandeur attached to it.
Diwali or Deepavali has never been a personal favorite (it's Holi :) ) but I can't deny the fact that when it comes to vastness and magnitude of festivity Diwali wins hands down. Mainly because this unlike many other magnificent festivals is not region specific. For example, the joy of kite flying festival is restricted to a few western states, I'm still oblivious to most of the South Indian fiestas, or even North, East and West for that matter. Yes, that's correct; not just religion specific, most of the Indian festivals are region specific. But not Diwali, for it is celebrated across the lenght and breadth of the country. It may vary in the way it is celebrated but not in the essence.

I was afraid of Diwali as a little girl. I was afraid of the firecrackers. The fear intensified when once a cracker rocket burnt a big hole in my petite new dress-that I was wearing! Thankfully the skin missed it by whiskers but the fear remained. I remember how I would lower the curtains, stuff my ears with cotton and skulk under the bed as the mean boys outside would burst cracker after cracker-the noisiest ones. For me it always meant, and will always mean, diyas, sweets and here comes my favorite part-rangoli!
The brilliant fusion of lights and colours. Both meant to enlighten our souls and brighten our lives. I still stay a hand's distance away from crackers. And thanks to the ecological concern, I can now refrain from setting money ablaze without inviting quzzical looks from the people who're on a temporary noise pollution rampage. Oh, but I make an exception for fuljadis :)

On the flip side, Diwali means my mother would go on a mad cleanliness spree to spruce up the house. And the first victim is-yes, obvioulsy my room! Bed and study table-I understand, but what's the point in doing up the cupboard! I rather like the mishmash in my closet. Whenever I open the cupboard, the clothes come rolling down as if to welcome me :D. It's fun that way. I always tell her this. "I'm going to mess it up again anyway, besides these are the home clothes!" These are the magic (funny, how it rhymes with tragic ;) ) words that start the play button- " You are not a child anymore, how many times do I have to tell you, what would you do in future when you're on your own, what would people think of you,all you do is sit in front the computer, you're not studying as well...blah blah blah". The rebuke would always include plenty of surprising/shocking citations. Only my mother can somehow correlate lazing around in the summer of '05 to the culprit cupboard in the autumn of '09!

Oh, I'm sooo in a mood to blog, but mother india needs my help in lighting the diyas. And I better go before not paying heed to her is correlated to getting up late in the mornings :D

PS: Happy Diwali, humans and non-humans :)
PPS: I luuuuuurve my rangoli :)

Physics Degree

I went to crossword yesterday, after a very long time. What a shame! I live less than a minute's walk away! The thing is that there are four crossword vouchers in my possession since my b'day. And I've decided to put these to good use. Which is why I've vowed not to spend these on crime books, something that is characteristic of me. For a change I want to buy a book, that can be read again and again( No, I already have hp series :) )
So, I headed straight to the new arrival section. Four newspaper articles, three television interviews and one radio chat later I'm very keen on reading 'The story of my marriage'. I wish to believe that Bhagat's going to deliver what he has promised, this time round. Couldn't spot it. Asked a store guy. He told me, in way one talks to a five year old when one is trying to mask one's exasperation with an air of fake patience, that it hasn't released yet, but will adorn the bookstores very soon. Silly me. OK. Lesson learnt. When you spread the newspaper every morning, try to actually read it!
So anyway, since I couldn't find anything that I'd want to read again and again, my vouchers still lie idly in my once-cluttered-now-clean drawer. I wanted to buy something from the literature section. Actually a good compilation of plays would've been it. It has been a long time since I've read plays. Couldn't find the book. I can be very picky at times. Honestly, it can be safely said that I'm more picky than most of the customers anyway. The more I visit crossword these days, the more I find Landmark's collection richer. But that place isn't half as comfy as this one is.

On a carefree sunday evening, during the mad rush hour, even a panglossian wouldn't be hopeful of finding a space to park herself (or himself;know it doesn't matter, but why run the risk of being called an agressive feminist). Vaise, I'm both. Agressive. Feminist. But not both words placed next to each other in an alphabetical order. Yeah, so where was I? But anyway, I guess I was lucky to find an empty place near the toy section. Pleased at my discovery, I wondered why these fools would rather keep standing than sit on this vacant seat. And just a moment later I knew why. The little fancy table next to me was not just for tasteful rococo furnishing. It was a help desk of toys section. I 'm unable to decide what was more uneasy. The riotous kids who made a racket or their mothers who darted glances at the title of the book that I was reading. I was secretly happy that I picked up 'Almost Single' from the rack and not '20 and still a virgin'. And now about this. This isn't looking good. Seriously. There was a time when I actually gave a very disdainful look to books with such titles. I would roll my eyes at friends who'd rather browse through romantic section, than tagging along with me at the crime or science section. I'm telling myself this, again and again-this is most certainly not looking good.


Some forwarded mails are singular and superb. I liked this one very much indeed.

It concerns a question in a physics degree exam at the University of Copenhagen:

"Describe how to determine the height of a skyscraper with a barometer".

One student replied: "You tie a long piece of string to the neck of the barometer, then lower the barometer from the roof of the skyscraper to the ground. The length of the barometer plus the length of the string would equal the height of the building."

This highly original answer so incensed the examiner that the student was failed immediately. The student appealed on the grounds that his answer was indisputably correct, and the university appointed an independent arbiter to decide the case.

The arbiter judged that the answer was indeed correct, but did not display any noticeable knowledge of physics. To resolve the problem it was decided to call the student in and allow him six minutes in which to provide a verbal answer which showed at least a minimal familiarity with the basic principle of physics. For five minutes the student sat in silence, forehead creased in thought. The arbiter reminded him that time was running out, to which the student replied that he had several relevant answers but couldn't make up his mind which to use.
On being advised to hurry up the student replied as follows:

"Firstly you could take the barometer up to the roof of the skyscraper, drop it over the edge, and measure the time it takes to reach the ground. The height of the building can then be worked out from the formula H= 0.5g*t squared. But bad luck for the barometer".

"Or if sun is shining you could measure the height of the barometer, then set it on end and measure it's shadow. Then you measure the lenght of the skyscraper's shadow, and thereafter it's a simple matter of proportional arithmetic to work out the height of the skyscraper."

"But if you want to be highly scientific about it, you could tie a short piece of string to the barometer and swing it like a pendulam, first at the ground level and then on the roof of the skyscraper. The height is worked out as a difference in the gravitational restoring force T= 2 pi square root(l/g)."

"Or if the skyscraper has an outside emergency staircase, it would be easier to walk up it and mark off the height of the skyscraper in barometer length and then add them up".

"If you merely wanted to be boring and orthodox about it, of course you could use the barometer to measure the air pressure on the roof of the skyscraper and on the round, and convert the difference in millibars into feet to give you the height of the building".

"But since we are constantly being exhorted to exercise independence of mind and apply scientific methods, undoubtedly, the best way would be to knock on the janitor's door and say to him 'If you would like to have a nice new barometer, I will give you this one if you tell me the height of this skyscraper'."

The student was Niels Bohr, the only Dane to win the Nobel Prize for Physics and the teacher in question was Rutherford.

I loved this person's name as a teenager. Still do. Because it sounds like my name- in progress :D
I love Mr. Rutherford's name as well. More so because I loved the play that we had in our syllabus at school- The importance of being Earnest. :)

mixed bag

This clearly was the longest gap between my any two posts. Back in business :) Well..no, not totally. I don't think I'd be blogging that often. I've lost the will to blog like before (how bad is that on lethargy scale?)
But, quite a few things happened in the past few days of which I'd like to have a record. Mainly because these things were neither memorable, nor exciting. In fact it would be safe to say that these were of no significance at all. I feel bad for such events, such memories. Events that were okayish. Memories that are not good, and not bad either. We tend to forget these. Like I'd always remember that amazing school picnic, or that feeling of riding a bicycle for the first time. And no matter how hard I try, I'd also never quite forget the nasty fight over a petty issue, I had with a friend. But there is a distinct possibilty that I'd forget the walk that I had today with a bunch of old pals. Very good memories. Check. Very bad memories. Also check. Normal workaday memories. Forgotten.
No problem. Diaries/blogs to the rescue (yes, diary is still and will always remain a first preference; there's a lot of clipping and a lot held back stuff in the blog-intentionally :))

Part One of the festival season over. Nine nights of Navaratri, five days/nights of Durga Puja and finally Vijayadashami. Maybe I'm expected to be in very high spirits. All ecstatic and jubilant, with fresh zeal and verve. I was all this and more, last year. This year..well..was not like last year. All my friends were in town a year before. No one came this time round :( I watched the ultra crazy garba videos of last year and became sadder. Durga Puja wasn't compensating either. This year has been a record. I didn't meet one single person I intended to meet. Not even one! Only the people from my parents' friend/aquaintance circle I see once every year and whom I greet with fake smiles. These people always ask me the same set of questions. I always give them the same set of answers. For some reason, they are ever so interested in the way I commute to and from college. ("Which bus did you say"?, "How much time does it take"? ). It's OK. I've got used to it. I also saw someone who somewhat jolted my memory. It has been so long since I thought of this person. There was a time when I used to do that extensively. The first glimpse was exhilarating but the next moment I remembered about his current status. A sinking feeling. Very bad feeling. I think my only crush till date who probably doesn't even know me!
And inspite of such rather dangerous possibilities which have the power to transform my sanguine disposition into a doleful one, I love going to the puja for just one simple reason- for her! The divine Maa, who is the most beautiful, most loving, most forgiving, most protective of all :) Besides, for me no music can be as evocative as the music of pujo. I love the sound of the dhak-that typical rhythmic percussion, the tinkle of the bells during shondhi pujo (evening aarati), the smell of the camphor, the dhunuchi naach(ritual dance worships). I feel protected. A feeling that no pain or sorrow in the world can touch me. It is a blissful feeling. A moment for which one is beyond happiness and/or miseries. Beyond the worldly pleasures and the sufferings. I don't quite know what kind of a feeling is that, but it spawns very strong emotions. It makes me feel really really powerful. Like there's nothing to be afraid of, nothing to worry, nothing that cannot be done or achieved. And even after it is achieved, it would be no big a deal. I can keep standing there watching the idol for ages,I actually do till my mother drags me away ie :D

Dusshera at vikki is always fun. I've been watching it every year for years now. It has almost become a ritual, but a good one. A huuuge effigy of Ravan is made up, stuffed with the most sparkling (and consequently the most polluting) fire crackers. All complete with an act that the folks put up. Lord Rama, brother Lakshman and devotee Lord Hanuman along with the vaanar sena conquer the army of the nefarious ten-headed king of Lanka and eventually Ravan himself to save Mata Sita. For obvious reasons, no girl from the colony volunteers to play Sita :D Which is why some or the other poor fella is coaxed into draping a sari, fashion a false plait, and allow Lucky aunty to put tonnes of make up on his face! After the last fragment of Ravan is burnt to ashes, these 'actors' tend to dance a bit-victory dance. More often then not the Raavan sena and Sita also join their 'co-actors'. And one can always hear someone quipping or disapproving- "Sita ko to dekho, kaise pallu lehraa lehraake naach rahi hain Raavan ki sena ke saath" :P And every year Chinky says the same thing-" Iski(referring to the Vaanars of the Vaanar sena) punchh kitni cute hain" :P

Met the old vikki gang after a long time today. Especially Prachi didi. I don't remember when was the last time I saw her. Oh wait! wait! I do. It was almost two years ago when she dropped by to say hi and I showed her our teacher's day pics. I think she might've broken a rib while laughing her head off at poorna's pic in a sari. Oh! how we used to ridicule poorna banerjee. How extremely hilarious it used to be :D. Only Uttara was missing :( I remember how much fun it used to be in those days.

I watched 27 dresses this afternoon. Sweet. I hate to admit it but I love romantic movies. I have a love-hate relation with romantic movies. I love them because..well..because of emotional reasons :) But I also hate them as they are a constant reminder of the fact that my life is not like those movies, and I so want it to be one! I have neither appreciated, nor longed for regular romance. As in, being involved with rather 'obvious' people-classmates, colleagues, people from the same friend circle. It's a nastily common thing. It should be like movies! The backdrop stretched across a couple of cities. An absolute stranger.Cynical. Not the very best of beginnings. A dozen heated arguments, a million sarcastic comments. A vulnerable moment. Get to know the 'real them' part.Change of opinions. Friendly bonding. Circumstantial misunderstanding. Big fight. Parting of ways. Revelation. Realization at the better-late-than-never time. A panicky search. A crazy confession...and they walked away in the sunset hand in hand :) Ohh and yes-it also involves torrential rains, skating, airport and a public speech-albeit, not in that order. Yup- that's my movie. And even if it isn't at least spinning such tales can be my alternate career, if engineering goes for a toss :D I mean, people with far baseless storylines are raking in moolahs!
Yeah, I'm gonna keep this option open, just in case...

I wish I could go on and on. But my body is screaming in protest. Today was very tiring. And I have my darned college tomorrow :x

PS: I'm very happy for Anu :)
PPS: I'm seriously at my wits end as far as the post titles are concerned. Help! Help! SOS!

i don't have a title for this!

Oh what a week! Full of strain, tough decisions, tension, wake-up calls. And it is just the beginning. Nevermind. Dekh lenge :)
But with every passing day, I'm finding it more and more difficult to maintain the blog. Not because, I don't have enough time (we never have enough time) but because all of a sudden I'm facing a dead end as far as the things to write about are concerned. As a matter of fact I don't have a particular subject to blog about even now. Aimeless keying..yeah..there are such days..yeah.


Tomorrow is monday. The week begins on monday. You're supposed to go to college on and from monday. Monday through friday-everyday. And even though I bunk a lot, I'm planning to go this week. Attendance shit and all :x. I mean what's the point in going when they've closed down my fav nescafe outlet :( Canteen's for the riff-raff, not me (*nose turns up high in the air*)

Today is my dad's birthday. Exactly a month after mine :) But he had to go on his silly office tour this very day,so we've postponed the celebrations by a week which means we aren't dining out tonight. Which in turn means I'll have to eat the most boring food in this whole wide world- roti, sabzi,dal and the ilk :x Nayh..I'll coax mum to make something else :)
When dad's outta town, mother and I dine out a lot. Mainly because it is my father who's excessively picky about his food, we aren't. We can life off on pizzas, baked spaghettis, chinese food or even a modest bhaji-paav. But my father finds it hard to do without a full course home-cooked meal. Hmm..anyway, as of now I'm reducing the volume of his bday cake( and in the bargain increasing my volume..aaarrghh..koi na, tomorrow I'll take the route that requires me to walk a lot :) ) Balance. It's all about striking a perfect balance.

A girl back in college is getting reeeeally nettlesome. And I don't know how to react. One is always at a loss of words when people you call friends suddenly start saying mean things! Why, why would they do that? I think I might confront her soon. Oh, I hate confrontations :x

I guess I should wrap it up as I don't have anything else to add..except maybe that the two pigeons outside this room's window are totally doing it! :P
Come to think of it, they've been doing it since I turned on the comp. Two hours!! By a pigeon's standards, quite a player boy! ;)

PS: I'm NOT a voyeur. It is..well..Mother Nature (yeah..capital M, capital N) :D :)

PPS: Hille le jhakjhor duniya..hille le jhakjhor :)

change

Guess who is the latest one to turn a traitor? I've as good as ditched orkut. I'm using my facebook account more often now and I've actually started liking it!
And this is not a sudden move to keep up with the trend. It is a move to avoid orkut. Or shall I call it Pandora's box? Yes, that would be it. True, it helped me in staying connected with my old school mates. True, it helped me interact with my classmates in college during the initial phase. True, I made a lot of wonderful friends from different cities. And knowing myself, I wouldn't have been able to do all of this without a social networking site. Mainly because I'm highly incapable of keeping in touch with people. Even the ones who once topped the list of my best buddies.I dunno what's it with me, but I have a tendency of falling apart. Had it not been for the internet I probably wouldn't have made any effort to keep myself updated. Keeping in touch over phone is.. well..irregular. Although I prefer it, but it still is irregular.I guess the fact that I keep losing my cellphones is a major contributing factor! Hence, this phenomenon was good. It still is good. But of late it has been the genesis of a lot of unsolicited things in my life. And it's time now to put my foot down. How I wish I had Uttara's courage to delete it and get over with it once and for all. But I can't do that, or at least not at the moment..sigh..
So, I selected the next best option. I'm trying to replace one with the other in hope that I forget about this one. And then I'll try to forget about that one.
I wish that day comes soon when one fine morning I'll wake up and gladly get rid of all these blight-of-my-social-life accounts, willingly do away with all the redundant email ids and be happy to write in my good old diary instead of a blog.
Yes, that day will come soon.

PS: The classroom humor is back! A droll professor has returned to cause a laughter riot :D

piggy tales

It is difficult. Studying something boring after dinner, with stomach full of food that is getting digested even as you're dilly-dallying about where to begin from. And by the time the hour hand of the clock sweeps a full π/3 radians, the eyelids positively begin to droop. At this time, it takes your cellphone to declare 'one new message received', to stir you from your somnolent state. It was from a friend from college about a rather alarming news. 'One swine flu case in our college'-it read. The eyes which were getting blurry a minute ago,popped out with sudden alertness.
"Good lord! who?" I asked.
"Someone from IT dept"-she replied.
And I started rewinding my memory. Did I meet any IT people today? Um..no. I don't think so. I did see a few of them a day before yesterday at the students' section while inquiring after the marksheets, but I definitely didn't talk to them. But then maybe I came in close contact with someone who might've come in contact with them. Or maybe I came in contact with the infected person himself! How would I know? I know very limited people in the college by their names, or even by faces for that matter. Which is explainable, as I still don't know the names of at least a dozen of my classmates..yeah, never bothered to find out either. But the point is..what are the chances? I do travel by buses.Of course it has reduced great deal this sem. And although travelling on your own is a time saver, thirty five minutes at a stretch for a heavily accident prone person like me is a bit trying. But I'm turning into a road rockstar- two full weeks without bumping into other vehicles and speeding tickets :).
My cold has not subsided even after a month. And my mother, like a typical mother is making a big deal out of it.Yawn. But now that there's so much morose news coming from every corner-swine flu tightens grip in the city,state sees its worst hit ever, first disease to be declared pandemic in the last forty one years,death toll soars up,new testing centres being set up-the paranoia is making inroads in everybody's mind. Even mine. My 'be-prepared' father had already purchased the n-95 masks two weeks ago and he daily urges both me and mamma to wear it. No, we still don't. He doesn't, either.But now..now I might. Ew!
It's funny, you know! The absolutely contradictory behaviour that people exhibit. Don't compromise with the roadside dalwadas, travel in brts buses only because they're for free, and please please don't forget to avail from the 'mega' sale that is going on in a mall that is a good twenty kilometres from your home- yes yes the same which records the footfalls of half the city- to buy one and get two free ,or perhaps shop for five hundred or more and get a kilo of sagar ghee free. And yet these are the same people, who'll run like road runners,covering up their noses and mouths with any cloth at hands' reach-hankie,dupatta,free end of a saree,collar of the shirt-at the slightest sound from the inferno- Aaaatchhooo!

It's a pity that swine flu is a communicable disease, and that it can affect humans. Think how easy it would've been otherwise, to prove/determine the real species of many a mammals who pretend to be humans. At least a few people I'm unfortunate enough to know, would've definitely been affected by swine flu.
But every cloud has a silver lining and I'm hoping for the best. Maybe after this they'll close the college for a week. OR maybe they'll curtail the college hours. OR maybe they'll stop sending letters to the parents of the students with an attendance shortage, which by the way I didn't receive. :) OR maybe they would distribute Bournvilles. Yes, I know the last one doesn't fit in, but what the hell! one can never get enough of chocolates! :D

No matter whatever dies out...Hope must live on :)

shit happens

Imbecile! Blockhead! Dumbass! Jackass! Moron! Idiot! Pigheaded! Birdbrained!
I'm all this and more :X

why? Why? WHY? Why did I do it?
I acted most imprudently today. Which person? Which abysmally foolish person would ever rebuff such enticing a proposition, hmph? I still can't believe I said..well whatever I said.
Ohhh..God! I'd been dying for this to happen and when finally it did seem to materialize, I thoughtlessly blew it up. Dream.Wish.Pray.Disregard the answered prayers.Get rueful.That's what I always do. Why am I like this?

I don't deserve to make a wish. That's what. Because even if it comes to me on a platter, I take it and fling it as far as I can. This opportunity that I let go, I'm pretty sure wouldn't come again. And this time, it's nobody's fault but mine. No person to pass the buck to, no destiny to blame, no circumstances to accuse. All my fault :(

No point crying over spilt milk. Pay the price, learn from the mistakes (especially the one that has been made thrice now!) and move on.

gen stuff

I turned one week old today :)
Seriously.
Erm..Ok, fine fine! It's one week, sixty months and sixteen years :D :D
Dunno about feeling older but I definitely feel wiser :)

Last week was super fun. I love my friends :)
There are times when you don't want to thank god, or even wish for something. All you want to say is-" Hey, come down for a while and party with us" :D

I don't want to go to school. Why do I have to go to school? I'd do anything better than going to school.
-Calvin.

I don't want to go to college. Why do I have to go to college? I'd do anything better than going to college.
-Neelanjana.

Yeah, it's true. Mostly because there's no NSP*. Actually there is..not totally nsp, but somewhat nsp. But that too is not possible everyday :x

I'm in love with my new glares :)
When I look at these useless xeroxed pages, like the ones I'm looking at through the corner of my eye, I get irrirated. God knows how many chopping down of trees am I obliquely guilty for :( Ever since I started my college life getting stuff xeroxed- most of the times absolutely unnecessary ones-has become a routine. The owners of the local xerox shops know us pretty well by now. One doesn't even need to tell them what all you want to get xeroxed from the reference handbooks, the ones that they don't issue on a student's library card because apparently keeping such books in our possession is like..ahem..letting in a bull in the china shop! (I dunno if the idiom suits the context. I'm sure it doesn't. But what the hell, I like it and I'll use it.)
I don't like calling a photocopy, a xerox. But I still do because that's what people understand. Twice, I tried without success to get a photocopy done and both the times I was told-"hum to sirf xerox hi karte hain'!
Fine then! xerox, it will be.

I want to watch kaminey. And I want to sit on the rides they have in fairs. There's no mela here..huh :x

Why does my father always need the comp when I'm in a mood to blog? :x

*NSP= Nayan Sukh Praapti :P

PS: This is a record post. i have never used so many emocons in any other post before.
PPS: And yet, these are not one millionth as expressive as my face is 8) (told you about my glares!)

I-day memories

I'll pick up from where I left in the previous post.

The program was good. it makes me very nostalgic. It reminds me of all those dances I was a part of in my school life, especially in the Independence and Republic days. I think the best of all was the one I did in 2nd standard-Aye Vatan, aye Vatan. It was my first dance performance of school life and easily the vividest of all others that followed every year since then.

There were some speeches that stirred us with patriotism and some that gave us a lot of time for idle talk :D
The flag was hoisted at 7:00 AM sharp, which meant that we were to be present latest by 6:30 AM. We had to wear our P.T(white) uniforms, and not the regular navy blue and white on that day. Prayer, pledge, a very inspirational thought, news and then the ceremony would begin. Flag-hoisting, rashtra gaan, a few more patriotic songs,house-wise parade, P.T, a few dance performances, speeches, history of freedom struggle, a few deshbhakti poems. And we sat on the dry ground under the scorching sun, playing with the sand and wishing desperately for the torture to get over. We groaned and sighed when the speech we thought was the closing speech turned out to be yet another intermediate speech. And then..the yellow pendaas :)
Such was a typical I-day at school, which I wished to believe then I would never miss. But that wish has not been fulfilled. I miss it.

Had just been watching those special programs on T.V where they take celebs to the border to meet the jawans. In one channel they took Abhishek Bachchan to the Tiger Hill, where the batttle of Kargil was fought and in other they took Sachin Tendulkar and Harbhajan Singh to meet the NSG commandos. I watched both the shows. Listened to the gut-wrenching tale that journalist Barkha Dutt told about a major who was the first one she ever interviewed and the also first one whose obituary she ever reported. The way some of the families of the martyrs had pulled themselves together, the way some still cried foul at the slightest mention of their names even a decade after they got slain.
Defence people- the personnel as well as their families are a different race altogether. A very very brave race.

In one channel they brought back a lot of messages to the border from the jawans' families and it was indeed an emotional moment. Even their family members seem to be made up of a different fibre. Fibre of sheer grit, valor exuding from every word that they spoke. And even after watching their families after months, even though tears wetted their eyes, when they spoke they were quite stable and firmly repeated that-"lekin desh zyaadaa zaroori hain". And one of them when asked-"Kya aapko yahaan border par apne parivaar ki yaad nahin aati?" answered with a smile-"Mujhe desh ki zyaadaa yaad aati hain".

Then in the other channel they showed some of the drills of the NSG commandos. And I have no words for expressing my awe. I'd read somewhere that the rejection rate in NSG is more than 95%. No wonder the ones who are there are so fit! Then some of them shared a few incidents from the very recent operation Black Tornado. The spirit of friendship that and responsibility that led one major to engulf the bullets that were meant for his subordinate. The way they forgot everything about food and water let alone their personal lives during the operation that went on for two days. I remember a clip where after receiving adulation from the crowds after successfully completing the operation one of the commandos remarked-"This is the real reason why we chose to become a commando".

I have utmost respect for defence people. I know everybody has. Everybody should actually. And the more I learn about their gallantry the more I hero-worship them. It's not just about the physical fitness. It's mostly about the fervor with which they serve the motherland. One would think that patriotic dialouges are delivered just in movies. But the truth is that even the actors in movies cannot emulate this super human passion and commitment. Imagine being away from your family for a major part of your life, putting the nation before your loved ones, living in a sub-zero climate with modest facilities, braving the bullets, doing every possible thing and sometimes even the seemingly impossible ones by jeopardizing your own life so that your countrymen can sleep peacefully. If this is not the epitome of selflessness and bravery then what is?

They had a very good reason to coin the phrase 'Jai Jawan'.

Vijayee vishva tiranga pyaaraa

वीजयी विश्व तिरंगा प्यारा,
झंडा उंचा रहे हमारा.

सदा शक्ति सरसाने वाला,
प्रेम सुधा बरसाने वाला,
वीरो को हरषाने वाला,
मात्रभूमि का तन मन सारा.

वीजयी विश्व तिरंगा प्यारा,
झंडा उंचा रहे हमारा.

इस झंडे के नीचे निर्भय,
रहे स्वाधीन हम अविचल निश्चय,
बोलो भारत-माता की जय!
स्वंतंत्रता हो ध्येय हमारा.

वीजयी विश्व तिरंगा प्यारा
झंडा उंचा रहे हमारा.

आओ प्यारे वीरो आओ,
राष्ट्र ध्वजा पर बलि-बलि जाओ,
एक साथ सब मिलकर गाओ,
प्यारा भारत देश हमारा

वीजयी विश्व तिरंगा प्यारा
झंडा उंचा रहे हमारा.

शान न इसकी जाने पाये,
चाहे जान भले ही जाए,
मानव मातृ मुक्त हो जाए,
तब होवे प्राण पूर्ण हमारा.

वीजयी विश्व तिरंगा प्यारा,
झंडा उंचा रहे हमारा.

(नोट: यह गीत श्री. श्यामलाल गुप्त "पार्षद" द्वारा १९२५ में रचा गया जब कानपूर में भारतीय कांग्रेस अधिवेशन की बैठक हुई थी.)
We used to sing this song in chorus while at school. And today, like every year, the colony people are playing the entire collection of all the most popular patriotoc songs!
All these songs are so evocative!

Chhodo kal ki baatein, Nanhaa-munhaa raahi hoon, Aye vatan, aye vatan, Aye mere vatan ke logo, Mere desh ki dharti, jahaan daal daal par sone ki chidiya kare basera, saare jahaan se achha, vande mataram, yeh desh hain veer-jawaano ka, aao bachcho tumhe dikhaye jhanki hindustaan ki, insaaf ki dagar pe bachcho dikhaao chal ke...I love all of them!
But the best of all is the Rashtra gaan of course :)

Anyway, I'm running short of time. Need to go down to watch the flag-hoisting and the programs that would follow. More on India and Independence on the next post.

Naya khoon hain, nayi umange, ab hain nayi jawaani
Hum Hindustaani, Hum hindustaani,
Hum Hindustaani, Hum hinduataani. :)

Jai Hind!

PS: This incidentally happens to be my golden jubilee post. And what better day or topic to bring it up!

blah

There are things one discovers, observes and concludes about oneself and others in the course of one's life. I haven't exactly completed my course of life (arrr..hopefully!).But yet, after each passing year our heads are fuller than the previous year. And this passing pseudo-gyaan needs to be recorded; how else will I laugh at my foolish younger self in my toothless and gray hair days? (Gray hair!! Ohhh..I shudder to think that my hair will turn gray one day :o)

Old facts:

• Bournvita/Horlicks/Complan/Milo etc health drinks: All these taste much better in their powdered solid state than the intended liquid state.
  

• First impressions may or may not be correct but first instincts are always correct.
  

• The way guys talk when they're in the company of their guy friends is annoyingly different from the way they talk when their 'gang' is absent.
  

• Kabaddi is more fun than lock and key.

• Vanilla shakes are better than vanilla ice-creams.

• To retain the lustre of the oil-paintings rub them with a dry slice of bread.
  

• Skirts look better than jeans.

• I think I'm a lot like Monica, although I've got a good deal of Phoebe in me. :)

• Heels shift the centre of gravity of our body and thus musn't be worn for health reasons. But if you're 5'3'' like me, tell the person who told you this to go suck a lemon.

Recent gyaan:

• Never take your mom shopping with you when you want to buy a backless halter. She wouldn't let you buy it. (Mine didn't). Always buy it first and then tell her that you bought it from the no-exchange section :P (this will be implemented the next time, which will be very soon *evil laughter*)
  

• The chief minister himself would probably be more approachable than the department peon. Seriously. Imagine a life wherein you can strut around with an air of supreme self-importance, get a naive but dutiful assistant, look down upon the students as if they are absolute scum, and the toughest part of your job is making a pot of tea!
  

• Flirting with a teacher is really uncool.
  

• Majority of the people in the buses talk about buses.

• Orkut was too much trouble than it was worth.

• The concept of moral luck seems to be true enough.

• Chololates are resistant to resistance.

Yeah, so anyway I got fined yesterday for exceeding the speeding limit. My first traffic fine :) Yesterday actually was a day of a lot of boo-boos and so was today :D

I desperately need something constructive to write about!

vague

Row, row, row the boat,
gently down the stream.
Merrily merrily merrily merrily,
life is but a dream.

Innocent kinter garden days. :)

But it amazes me! The depth of these few lines. Children recite this heavy or light (depending on our perception) piece of philosophy, in a singsong voice with a purity that can only emanate from an unsullied heart. And I have a feeling that they understand it better than the adults do. Some wise man had once said-"If you want to see life in the exact way it is, see it from a child's eye". I think all of us were much wiser and much better humans when we were young. But alas! Not anymore. Someone was kind (ahem) enough to remind me that at twenty-one, one ages enough to publicly enter the aunties' leauge (huh! :x). Ohh..no one has called me an aunty yet. I don't think I'm prepared to be called one, nor am I prepared to bid goodbye to the twentieth milestone of my life.

My throat is a lot better now. Throat infection gives me the scare of my life. Imagine not being able to talk! It's like a capital punishment for me. :o

Today as I and priyal sipped our coffees after finishing the paper work, it struck me that the tagline of the coffee shop is sufficiently justified. Indeed, a lot can happen over a cup of coffee.On sunday evening it was a typical g-talk with anu and chinky in the same place. Yesterday it was a leisure talk with harshit whom I met after a long time. And today it was a some vital and hopefully fruitful work.
Now that I come to think of it, I have a lot many good memories associated with these joints. A lot of casual hanging around, a lot of meet-ups, a lot of catching up, a lot of idle talks, a LOT of gossiping :P. I remember the first time I went to one of these outlets, it was with anu, on our way back home from school. As young girls in uniforms, we were heavily embarrassed to see a couple right across our table snogging unabashedly in the full view of public ( I, anu and the shop workers were the only public!). Of course it is OK, but there has to be a refined technique. Tearing each others' faces- how primitive are you? :o
And also that time: my most horrible day of the college till date. The whole thing was so nasty and I was so weobegone that I didn't even care to leave soon. Which is totally abnormal, as I look forward to leave the college area as soon as I'm allowed to. I'm the last person to suggest -"hey, it's just seven thirty let's stay for one more hour". But on that occasion I let the caffeine system along with my friends cheer me up.

As I was glancing through the tv channels yesterday, desperately trying to evade the ridiculous details of Rakhi-ne-Eelesh-ko-chuna-apna-var news, I came across a hindi music channel where they were playing all those nineties' hindi movie songs. Pehla nasha, Main koi aisa geet gaaoon, Dil hain chhota sa, Baaho ke darmiyaa, Aawaara bhanvare...most refreshing! It was then that I wondered where had these songs gone? Why don't I listen to them anymore? I should. I've grown up listening to these songs. Every generation is most attached to the songs that they hummed while they were young. At the age of ten, totally overwhelmed by kuch kuch hota hain, I used to daydream about my college life (a glorious period, thought I, when I'll be like one of those big girls) on the background music of koi mil gaya. Then, when I was in seventh, the entire country was obsessed with ek pal ka jeena from kaho na pyar hain. I was obsessed with na tum jaano na hum, from the very same. I used to sleep with that movie's cassette! In fact, Hrithik Roshan happens to be the only celeb/person whose poster I glued on a wall of my room :). Then there was a movie called 1942- a love story. And if I were to jot down a list of my top ten or fifteen, all of its songs would feature.
There's so much that has changed now. Anyone from the same era would remember a trend that was characteristic of that time. I don't know when it died out. Remember the music videos with songs that had a story to tell? I used to like piya basanti a lot, I still do. It had nauheed cyrusi playing a kashmiri girl and then there was a terrorist who falls in love with her..something like that. Colonial cousins, falguni pathak, sunita rao, alisha chinoy,shubha mudgal- these were people who used to cut an album every now and then. All with stories. Sometimes senseless, and sometimes very touching. What happened to this story-in-a-song culture? It was kinda nice.
Music actually is a very strong link to one's past. It can remind us as much as an old, battered diary can do. If I speak for myself, then as far as hindi music is concerned the nineties and a few early years of the new millennium would define my type of music. Of course some old and new ones are classic as well, but they don't make me nostalgic the way the songs from the former category do. :)

PS: This post is vague :)
PPS: yaaaaawn!

Anger Management

I can possibly watch any movie with Adam Sandler in it. My all time favorites are: I now pronounce you Chuck and Larry and 50 first dates. I sooo want to watch Funny People..sigh..

Anyway, this post is neither about Adam Sandler (I have an uncanny attraction for the name Adam though) nor is it about his movies or any movie for that matter. It's about the fact that I'm angry. Very very angry.For unmentionable reasons. And I want to control it. Anger management was the first thing that came to my mind and hence Adam Sandler-yeah,it was a good movie too.

Different people resort to different methods to appease their anger. Some people vouch for the effectiveness of deep-breathing, others say counting numbers does the trick for them. One of my school friends had a most singular way to pacify herself. She used to take a mouthful of ice-cold water and didn't gulp it down till she thought she was back to her calmer self. I too tried it once, and it really really works. And then there was one who used to go for long runs or exercised vigorously. Anu deletes her inbox messages to give vent to her fury. Chinky doesn't get angered that easily and when she does she..oh god! I don't know what does she do :o. She gets mad at me a lot many times and that too for just these two reasons - 1. Why can't you ever arrive on time? 2. Why don't you pick up your phone? Of course, I gathered quite recently that these are the things that ALL my friends (without an exception) complain of :P. Anyway, I guess she listens to her collection of melancholy songs from old hindi movies and cooks (god knows what!). Oh, it's about time I wrote a much promised post on Chinkyism. :D
And then some people swear. Oh,yes! All crudeness aside, this works as well.
When I was young I used to paint, and sometimes sketch vigorously to expel the rage trapped within. A very high velocity cycling also helped a lot. Nowadays, I do a lot of stuff. Not all of them at a time, I suit myself. Putting any of these into practice is fine.

Music.First loud. Loud enough to block all the thoughts. And then soothing, to quiet down the mind.

Cleaning. When I say cleaning, it is not the ordinary cleaning. It is 'The Monica' cleaning, with the vacuum cleaner, the duster, the scrub and the cleansing formula. Dusting, brushing,scrubbing,washing- I do it till I drop down tired.

Reading. Old copies of Children's digest, Tinkle, Champak, Billoo, Pinky. Fairy tales-Cinderella, Rapunzel, Emperor's new clothes, Little red riding hood, Snow white and the seven dwarfs or whatever I get. Old Khushwant Singh joke books. Not HP- that is when I'm depressed, not livid. This has had a cent percent success figure. All those people who keep flipping the pages of spiritual books or subscribe to complicated philosophy to seek solace, should lay their hands on the imprints of their childhood instead. Never underestimate Children's books. Its healing power is unparalleled.
Also, thanks to something I now have an easy access to some of the most entertaining passages on random topics.Most delightful !

And the latest addition in this list is the thing that I'm doing right now.
Better. Much better. :)
And now after typing a full length post my anger has not just subsided, in fact it, like its root cause, like a lot of things in life, is gone and forgotten.

Peace out!

sick

"No, no, a little more. Drink just a little more.See, it's steaming hot and I've put a lot of black pepper in it, so you'll feel better."

"Mamma, please. There's no taste in my mouth".

"Why are you not wearing your slippers? Have you ever seen me or your mother without our houseshoes? This is why you fall sick everytime."

"I'm not sick. It's just a little cold. I don't feel sick at all. I'm fine."

All this, just because I and my handkerchief are inseparable at the moment. I'm not quite appreciative of blowing nose but common cold makes you forget all that dignity. I hate catching cold and I hate falling sick :x

The first sign of rhinoviruses getting better of someone is continuous sneezing. The second is running nose , closely followed by headache, throat pain, cough and finally a slight fever.

And yet if you're adamant that you're not sick, try a simple pronunciation check- if your m's sound like b's-you have caught cold big time. I avoid talking to people during this time. It's so embarrassing! It has happened earlier. Something that became a legendary joke amongst the old colony gang-all thanks to Uttara for propagating it (hmph)- "Beri bummy bonday ko bangoes laayegi" :P

I sincerely hope I haven't infected Priyal and Mansi as I as good as spent an entire college-day with them yesterday. Priye's in my batch now-hurray!!! (sorry Bhoomi :D). But I think I have. Because by the end of the day both were sneezing.

I need to get well by today evening. It's my Parents' Twenty-third marriage anniversary :) And of course tomorrow's going to be very hectic, for most of us :)

I guess I'll take a nap now.

PS: I'm frigging tensed. Very very very tensed. :( :( :(

PPS: Why is this post showing the wrong date? Today's 1st august not 30th july. duh! dumb blog calender!

workaday life

A few weekly updates/general thoughts :

-The comp screen had gone blank on monday night and so had my mind at the gloomy prospect of not being able to orchestrate a finger tap dance on the keyboard. :( I think it has been established time and again that I have an acute phobia of being disconnected from the cyber world. Almost a nervous breakdown! I yelled at my parents as if it was their fault, threw a lot of tantrums, heatedly asked them to get it fixed-"My results can be declared anytime! Maybe it is being uploaded even as I speak(although shout would have been a more appropriate word)". I refused to utter a word till the problem was solved. I feel very bad,very guilty about my crabby behaviour with my parents when I'm livid with anger. And the worst part is that they try to pacify me instead of shouting back. The first thing that my father told yesterday,when I came back from college-"I tried a lot to contact that computer man, but he says he's busy. It can't happen today, but he'll definitely come tomorrow.OK?" Without replying I silently went inside my room and locked it. Today as I came back from college I found the computer guy mending it. And a few hours later, here I am typing away the shameful details of my obnoxious conduct. I'm a very bad daughter. Very bad one. I sometimes wish I had siblings. It is essential to have sibblings.That way one's tantrums surface a little bit. Maybe because I'm an only child my parents not only put up with my bad behaviour, but also cater to my whims and fancies. No one except the two of them would-I know. Also, I'm so dependent! What will I do when I face the real world?

- I have started travelling in the brts buses. And honestly,there's nothing 'rapid' about it. Slow as a snail if you ask me. The crowds, I gather have liked it but I'm pretty sure no one's going to travel in it once the free test drives are over and they start charging for the tickets. And although I'm very happy about it (better facilities+less walking+more comfort+no smelly,sweaty riffraff of the city to put up with for a little more money) , I do feel bad about the junta who think it's actually a social service program and that they'll never have to pay for tickets from now on! What do they know that after the Independence Day, travelling in these buses would pinch their pockets.

- I hate life's ways of showing me that my demands are irrartional. That I have a much much better life than a majority of the people. I hate it because, life is correct. And everytime I'm shown this with a proof, my head hangs. Life belittled me once more yesterday. I was silently sobbing under my handkerchief all the way to Subhash Bridge, complaining about something that's not under my control, yearning for something I know I can't have. "Why can't I have it? I don't like this life. I can probably swap lives with any person on earth.Honestly,how much worse can it get?" And then I was shown how much worse can it really get.
There's a very old, heavily wrinkled,bespectacled and seemingly fragile old lady in rags who waddles on the streets of Subhash Bridge, begging. I have seen her many times. Whenever she comes to me I give her whatever little change that is in my hands' reach. I don't think I've ever given her more than five rupees at a time. She mumbles something. Blessing, curse, gratitude, or any incoherent gobbledygook-I don't know. I have never seen someone who appears so much dead inside. Whenever I look at her I think she's just an assembly of organs, devoid of any form of human emotions. Someone who mechanically musters money to buy some food, as if waiting despairingly for a torrential rain or maybe a very cold winter to set her free from the plight of a cursed life. I mentioned she's bespectacled, didn't I? Wears very thick glasses, which I doubt are remotely close to her required focal length. And then there's this universal problem with bespectacled people-you can never see any sign of emotions in their eyes. Also the glare of sunlight makes it worse. Major drawback during the lectures of profs with weak eyesight: you have to pay undivided attention as you never know where exactly are they looking!
So anyway, this lady begs for a minute or two, gets exhausted, sits down for another five and then resumes the process. Yesterday I was positioned in a way to see her left profile as she was catching her breath after the Herculean task of moving around for a full minute-and I saw it- trickling slowly, it made visible a relatively cleaner skin in the region from where trail of the drop of pearl had passed. And I was stunned! Oh,my god,she's crying! That's an emotion-she still has it! Oh god, why does the world houses so much misery? Imagine wailing infront of people all your life and they still ignore you! They look at you without noticing you. They shoo you away. Clean the sleeves that your fingers might've brushed.What kind of life is that? Death would be better. Do I really want swap my life with her? With a shudder I breathe-No! no! a thousand times no!
I remember how depressed I got as a child, when I was taken to the Howrah station for the first time. "Mamma Why are they crying?", "Can I give them the money Didun and Dadi gave me? Please mamma". Fifteen years back, for a five year old ten crisp ten-rupee notes was a lot of money.And my mother let me keep it only because I wanted to put something in my newly purchased Shantineiketan string purse. By the time I traversed from gate to train, I'd given away all of it. I wouldn't do it now. I have become more or less stone-hearted with years. A few pennies would suffice, the brain says. And then I actually feel good. At least I'm better than those who take no notice. I 'did' something. I made someone 'happy'. Did I really? Maybe I sympathize, but do I empathize? Do I feel the spasms of their pain? I don't- I'm not five anymore.

-OK, now this is funny and at the same time..well..revolting! This is one tag that I thought I grew out of. That of a mimic. I thought that along with the school life this too has come to an end because I don't mimc my college profs. I can't bear butchering the language I love so much.
What started off as just another conversational topic has taken funnier proportions. And even before I could realize what was happening, I was delivering dialouge after dialouge and graciously obliging to the encores, as my friends roared with laughter. Yeah..apparently I can mimic Rakhi Sawant!! :O :P
Rakhi ka Swayamvar is a comical milestone-honestly! :D Ew! ew! ew! Bunch of maniacs :D
Oh,nevermind I'm not complaining. I love to entertain people. It satiates the attention seeker in me. While amongst a bunch of people, I like to do most of talking-which btw I do and for which I have a well earned notorious reputation :). But full length video recordings of those..ahem.. 'controversial' dialouges ;) Now,Priye, what was that! Oh, I'm gonna be soooo embarrassed if anyone outside the whole lot us ever views those clips :P

- Finally,I ponder over an absolutely irrelevant, none-of-my-concern issue. Can anyone please explain to me the reason behind the feminization of men? Anyone? Please?
It has become such a commonplace sight that it doesn't baffle me anymore. On my way to college, I spot ten of them-on an average. In college, the count goes up to um..well..anywhere between twelve to fifteen. And on my way back again there are a dozen or so, and if I happen to spot those guys who have it as their uniform the final number increases considerably.
I'm talking about guys in pink shirts. PINK shirts. pink SHIRTS. PINK SHIRTS. :O
Starting from strangers, somewhat knowns, classmates and now even teachers-they all wear it!
Now now, it's perfectly OK to have a favorite colour. Everyone is entitled to his own. This is a free country. One can wear what one likes to.Baby pink, bubblegum pink, light pink,shocking pink,salmon pink,rose pink,flamingo pink,dark pink,flashy pink,fluorescent pink-spoilt for choice! Perhaps the next logical step would be teeming these beautiful and petite pink shirts with pink cardigans, pink scarves, pink wallets-no? Oh come on, it will look nice..aaah,pretty pretty boys :) . All thanks to democracy one can stay prejudiced and laugh at this pink parading without raising anyone's eyebrow.Yes, I'm exercising my right of freedom of expression. Call me prejudiced, call me narrow-minded, shallow, opinionated, help yourselves to an avalanche of synonyms. But the fact remains is that I don't like guys in pink shirts. I have no reason for it but this is what I think, take it or leave it.
And yet I can make peace with the pink panthers but guys getting their eyebrows shaped, facials done! A little indigestable. There are two of them in college-two that I know of, ie. Is it some kind of chromosomal mutation that has occured?Mass mutation probably? I think I studied something like that in the Genetics chapter. When an extra X-chromosome gets added up during the meiotic stage making it XXY resulting in development of certain feminine traits in males. What was it? Was it Klienfelter's syndrome? I don't remember :(
Nevermind, I guess I'll get used to this new metrosexual phenomenon of give-a-face-lift dudes.
But I still don't like it. Where have all the men gone? :O

PS: I'm writing very long posts these days, am I not?

beginning of the close & Hema and Kaushik.

All the while I was getting drenched in the heavy downpour, my umbrella handed out to friends who didn't want to get soaked up,I was half thinking about it-thinking how would I put all this up in the blog.These thoughts however were ephemeral. Why? Because I was too busy jumping around splashing water all over my friends,that's why. :D

This is the first time I'm putting a blog title that in fact is a combination of two titles which were meant to be used for two different posts.The reason I'm acting like the public transport system of india-accommodating more than there's place for- is because I'm hell tired today, there are angry red rashes on my palms as a result of being subjected to incessant rains for about two extremely wet hours. And also because I desperately want to write about both of these and know that if I defer either one, it would remain in the drafts indefinitely just like those two unfinished posts that have been housed in there for more than a month. *yes,this post is going to be a painfully long one-long,even by my standards!*

I begin with the first one- beginning of the close.

Now, I really didn't want to grumble about college on the very first day of the last year. But they don't even seem put an effort to placate me,do they? By the time I was in my fourth semester, our department had got a brand new block.We were happy to move out of our old block. The new block was so beautiful that for one full semster we had cut ourselves out from the rest of the college. No frolicking around in the canteen block, no wandering about the rest of the blocks.We just stayed where we were,the place that made us happy! When I was in my fifth semester, one fine day it was declared that the iit-g'nagar would start functioning from our college till their campus gets fully constucted. We were excited.They arrived.We gave them a very warm welcome. All this plummeted when we were forced to give them our beautiful,airy classrooms with a superb view of the surrounds, compromising with our old block.But that was OK,we thought-the proverbial atithi devo bhava being fixated in our minds. But what happened today has led to pure resentment. They have now added up a fresh batch of students for a new academic year. And because it is a-more mouths than you can feed-situation, they've now taken up our old block as well. And we have been shunned to the block that we used when we were freshers. It sucks! Being in that block sucks! I hated first year. I hate every memory attached to it. And being there is evoking that gloomy past. It doesn't affect others much. I'm told they loved the first year. But I feel asphyxiated there. And the fact that ec dept is closer by doesn't raise my spirits either.

Anyway,sitting in that classroom had its instant effects. Like dumb driven cattle-a la first years-we attended each and every lecture, even the bogus ones.Labs of course are the reason we go to college.It's tough.We've been out of practice for two full sems. Bunk the fruitless lectures,go to labs,spend the worthwhile time in doing your sem projects.It was much more filling and self-satisfying. But today, I sat down in the very first lecture trying to drink the words of a veteran who seemed to regard every moment sans questioning students as a moment wasted. And ironically enough discourages wrong answerings! He says wrong answers get him more irked than no answers at all-the only teacher in my hitherto student life to say so. So, with every passing second I felt more and more stupid. Other lectures and lab followed. A few new names in the time-table had me sighing-"yeah right! that's what we need. Some more fresh out of college when-will-they-grow-up lecturers..huh!"Still I didn't open my mouth to complain until I noticed my time-table, carefully for the first time. Only B2 batch- two saturdays a month :x .What in the name of the holy mother of lord am I supposed to have done?? And then the rains. I know I've been cribbing for a month but then nothing in excess is well received-even by people who asked for them. Getting playful for a while in the showers is one thing and- being stranded twenty kilometres away from your home in mud-spattered,waterlogged roads in the unending rains accompanied with the thuderstorms, no mode of transportation in your visual range, with vision that gets increasingly hazy and shivers that the chill rain water brings as an additional obnoxious gift-is quite the other. I don't know how I managed to reach,but I did.Oh, I hope this darned hair gets dried up soon. Oh,dear god four days till the weekend...sigh.



Hema and Kaushik-

When I was reading Unaccustomed Earth, I saw that the last story had an interestingly simple name-Hema and Kaushik. It fascinated me. But I always read books in a serial fashion-unless I'm cramming for uni exams. Within two days I was done with all except this one. And I didn't want to read this anymore. I'd read enough of Jhumpa Lahiri to guess that like all her stories,this too will have a tragic end. Not exactly tragic-but let's just say that she's a very very practical author and consequently all her characters are also very real and have very practical lives. Whatever be the case, I didn't want this one to have a 'practical' ending. I'm not exactly a sucker for romantic novels. To be honest, mushy talks make me very uncomfortable. I've never read a Mills and Boons or a Love Story, I don't intend to read them either. But due to all those fairy tales I read as a child, all those movies I watched as a teenager, one phrase has gotten cemented in my mindset-the one that I've come to regard as axiomatic- 'and they lived happily ever after.' This should not be violated, says my inner self. This condition must be fulfilled...by life. Which is why I didn't have enough courage to disagree with myself. I thought it would shatter my inner belief.

How wrong I was.

For some stories need not have a happy ending. They need not have an ending at all. That real life is not quixotic, because it comprises of real people, not the ones who're spun out of the imagination of their creators and who live within the dreamy chapters of frayed old books. Perfect endings, I think are just a state of mind. We never exactly let our desires end,do we? What matters in the end is neither the beginning, nor the ending- only that lies within.

These two names in the book also bring out some of my personal memories out of the book.Very different memories-very different indeed. And yet they are of no consequence to me.



Hema, oops! Hema ma'am was our teacher at school. And she probably is one of the most beautiful woman I know. Tall, svelte with most carefully carved features and a skin that shone. Back then I hoped to grow up pretty like her. I wanted to wear my hair long and straight just like her. I wanted to wear all those lithe and lovely sarees that she wore with matching bindis. She was my first class teacher at school and also the first teacher who told me that my handwriting was very small-like little messed up ants crawling.Of course I improved-and all thanks to her my legible, flowing writing still stays even after the deterioration by the generation of ball pens. She chose me as a house captain for her house, and we won in almost every competition. But as I grew out of primary and secondary my association with her decreased great deal. After a while it was only Goodmorning/afternoon ma'am if I ever bumped into her in the corridors. And no contact after I left school. But I've been told that she no longer nurtures her long tresses which she has cut short like a crop. Nevermind her,I'm growing it. I still want it long and straight.



I met Kaushik on orkut almost three years ago. It was one of those initial phases when people used to accept friend requests from anyone just to increase their friend count. I didn't. I was rude in my 'about me' section. I had written something about how jaded I was with all those frandship requests and that I wouldn't humor any,if sent. He didn't send me any.Eventually of course I did,but after a lot many pleasant conversations. As I said those were the early days when people didn't wish to hide their profile visits. I assume he found me having visited his profile. I must say,I was intrigued-to the point of intimidation. I logged in one day to find his scrap. I replied back,and the conversation started streaming. It didn't take me long to notice that I was talking to a very chivalrous man. Someone who was very generous with his compliments, evidently very knowledgeable, exceptionally insightful and wrote an English of the most refined degree. I was not even eighteen then, already a decade younger than him. What I began to think of him..it's very obvious,isn't it? Oh,how conscious I would get! I would take no less than five minutes to reply to his scraps. I weighed my words, rephrased sentences many times, checked for spelling errors/grammatical errors if any. I just didn't want to be imperfect.It was all meaningless though, because he was someone who would never make fun of anybody's mistakes,nor of their ignorance. He gave me a word called floccinaucinihilipilification(I hope I've got the spelling right) and asked me to find out it's meaning. I did, and asked him in return to find the meaning of supercalifragilisticexpialidocious-and he did. I think the last time we scrapped was on the day of Saraswati puja, two and half years ago. That was also the first time he typed in Bengali instead of English. Something about theism, atheism. he didn't come online a long time after that. Then about a week before my first university exams, one of his friends scrapped to inform about his demise. It was then I came to know that he was battling blood cancer since long and was in his last stage. I was in as much loss of words then as I am now. Never once could I sense a tinge of sorrow-never. I don't visit his profile. I can't. All those R.I.P scraps flooding his scrapbook even now..scare me. I don't know what else to write...how I wished I'd got to know him more.
Hmm..I think my longest post till now.

HBP :)

Just back from the first day-first show of 'Harry Potter and the half blood Prince'. And I'm streaming with opinions. Mixed opinions if I were to call it so.
First opinion is that I liked it- a lot. OK, maybe not a lot but I liked it. Mainly because this is the first Harry movie (I don't like calling it a 'Potter' movie or even 'Harry Potter' movie like most of the people; Simply Harry feels closer and warmer :) ) I've watched on the first day in the first show.
Many things are just as they should be. All details intact.

• In the beginning of the movie-the dementor attacks in muggle world, the chill, the gloom, the shattering of the bridge are all very subtly depicted.
• Slughorn's transformation into the fat sofa and back is shown well, so is the seeming ransacking of the house. Although, Slughorn should have been plumper and with a moustache! (What happened to the walrus moustache?)
• Fred and George's joke shop is more or less the same as I imagined while reading the book.
• The keeper tryouts, where Hermione confounds McLaggen has been correctly pictured but Cormac in the movie is much more handsome than what he's described in the book, and also much less self-important.
• Slughorn's first class where Harry wins felix felixes, much to the chagrin of everyone, especially Hermione is totally in agreement with the book and also one of the best scenes of the movie.
• Dumbledore's memory of his first meeting with Tom, though curtailed is quite digestable.
• Ron and Lavender's fooling around (read: snogging) is well..hilarious!(:P) And I was pleasantly suprised to see that they did include the scene where Hermione sets a group of twittering, pecking birds on Ron in a fit of rage (Oppugno!). Also, the part where he eats chocolates spilled with love potion that Romilda Vane had gifted Harry and gapes dreamily is ultra superb! Oh, Rupert Grint is such a fine actor!! He brings Ron's character to life. No other actor in the movie has ever been so convincing,except perhaps Hagrid and Malfoy.
• Malfoy! Man, the genuineness with which Tom Felton gets into the skin of the character! The scenes with the vanishing cabinet are probably the only scenes which are better potrayed in the movie. The experiments with the apple and the bird,which inspite of being concocted by the script-writers are good in attempting to explain how the cabinet works.
• The cave, the black lake, the chain that materializes from thin air, the boat, Dumbledore's breakdown,his snivels thereafter, the inferi, the fire- positively stick by the book.
• In fact I found the inferi much spookier in the movie than I'd imagined. Despite having read the book a dozen times I jumped back with shock the instant a dead hand caught Harry's wrist.
• Ron and Hermione's scenes lend some lighter moments. Ditto with Fred and George's fleeting appearances.

Having highlighted all those things that maintained a consistency in reference to the book and can most likely said to be an almost a replica of the same, I would now jot down the things due to which the movie is likely to draw a lot of flak-and rightly so! We never demanded to watch the nuances of every single occurring, did we? But expecting us to agree with whatever codswallop they show, much in the manner of house elves, is exactly the same as expecting Fred and George to stay indifferent to Percy when he is superciliously flaunting his Head Boy's badge!
So here are some discrepancies that I observed (and some of them were blatant enough to make any Harry fanatic, or even fan for that matter indignant).

• What the hell was that flirting with the muggle girl in the opening scene all about? Our Harry has never flirted with anyone in the book. He's one of those guys who can't flirt effortlessly, and that's the trait that makes him so much lovable. The scene was plain and simple-silly.
• The conversation between the muggle prime-minister and Fudge should have been shown.And if not that at least the Daily Prophet that was very much shown flashing the news of Harry being the chosen one should also have carried the news of Rufus Scrimgeour succeeding Fudge as the new Minister for Magic.
• Why was Kreacher's part ignored?
• Dumbledore after borrowing the magazine of knitting pattern from Slughorn at the latter's place didn't grab Harry by his arm and announced to leave as shown in the movie. He in fact went to another room in the pretext of reading it while leaving Slughorn in the sole company of Harry.
• Weasleys were very much expecting Harry for the summer. They only didn't expect him at the dead of the night,they thought he wouldn't turn up until morning.But since Molly Weasley was awaiting her husband she was wide awake anyway and it was she who received Harry, not Ginny. She made Harry some toasts and Onion soup, or did she? I think she did. And yet,the movie shows them to be astonished at the sight of him. Molly Weasley asks Ginny "Harry who?" :O That is so unlike her!
• And where was Fleur? She was supposed to be at the Burrow,right? So was Bill.
• In the Spinner's end, at Snape's place it wasn't Bellatrix who suggested an unbreakable vow between Snape and Narcissa. Snape himself suggested it.
• In the Diagon Alley when everybody was visiting the joke shop, Harry, Ron and Hermione sneaked outside in the invisibility cloak at the sight of Malfoy heading towards Knockturn Alley. They din't stroll in a carefree way without the cloak as they were shown. Also, Malfoy never went to Borgin and Burkes with his mother. On the contrary he went there quite clandestinely,without his mother's knowledge. And the trio definitely did not climb up some terrace to snoop. They used the extendable ears. And Hermione unwisely and unsuccessfully barged inside the shop once Malfoy left to enquire after what he'd ordered.
• The Hogwarts express is supposed to have compartments. The first 'Slug-club' get-together was held in Slughorn's compartment.
• Harry used his invisibility cloak,and not Peruvian instant darkness powder to get inside the compartment where Malfoy and his gang were sitting.
• OK, this one is a HUGE blunder. It was Tonks and not Luna who found Harry locked inside the Slytherin's compartment where Malfoy had petrified Harry, broken his nose and covered him in his own invisibility cloak. And spectrespecs can definitely NOT see through invisibility cloaks. How ridiculous! Also, Tonks and not Luna had fixed Harry's nose (episkey!)
• Dumbledore never mentioned Tom Riddle in the start of term speech. In fact there were very few who knew Voldemort's real name.
• Where were Crabbe and Goyle in the movie? They should've shown two scrawny girls holding scales in front of the Room of Requirements.
• Only two memories have been shown. Where were the other memories? Borgin's memory, Hokey-the house elf's momory, Morfin Gaunt's memory. The deductions about Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's cup, something from Ravenclaw (which later in the seventh part turns out to be the diadem) were certainly missing.
• And the most censurable thing in the movie was-oh wait..I still can't believe it. Bellatrix Lestrange and her fellow death eaters burn down The Burrow!!! And Harry runs after her. Ginny follows him. They run through the woods and find themselves facing the death eaters. But very soon they're joined by the Weasleys, Lupin and Tonks as a result of which the death eaters flee. Which person? Which abysmally retard person would ever think of such a tampering? Words fail me. I'm appalled beyond measure :X :X :X
• Ginny never took Harry to the Room of Requirements to hide the Prince's book. And they definitely didn't kiss there. They kissed right after the Quidditch final which Gryffindor won, in which Harry was not allowed to play as a punishment for cursing Malfoy with Sectumsempra and had to do a detention with Snape instead. And that old ugly warlock's stone head on which Harry himself places that tiara should have definitely been shown. It was so vital to the plot of the DH.
• The potion in the basin at the cave was green in colour. But in the movie it was some murky colour. Now, It's not that I'm being finicky over trivial details. No, I'm not. Because it isn't a trivial detail. It was written that a faint greenish light emanated from the potion. Even the cover of HBP captures this quite visibly. Why would they overlook such a conspicuous detail?
• The death eaters were shown entering the castle through the vanishing cabinet, but the members of the Order were noticeably missing, let alone the battle between them.
• Harry was hidden inside the cloak in the tower, he was not concealed under some kind of structure. And Snape never saw him in the book, like he did in the movie.

A few of these may appear to be of no consequence at all. But had it happened in the book just as it happened in the movie, the story would've drifted along a very different path.
All the same, I was very excited to watch this one. And I wouldn't say that it didn't match up to my expectations because it so happens that my expectations of the movies based on books are always as low as Crabbe and Goyle's grades :D Overall, it was good. Totally! I think I might have one more go at the theatre :)
PS: I still wish I'd seen the paid preview yesterday. 16th of July 2005 was when Half Blood Prince got released. It would have been historic to watch it on 16th of July. But for some reason it didn't work out.
PPS: I enjoyed ambling down the road in a slight rain. This is the fourth time in this week when I did that. It is such a beautiful feeling. Chuck the umbrellas, get rid of those clumsy raincoats. Get drenched. Croon a rain song. For monsoon comes only once in a year, and doesn't stay for long. :)