The Ranting Indian

So after an extremely hectic day and four hours of sleep I woke up next morning, only to grudgingly get ready for an even more hectic day. I swore under my breath, fully capitalizing on my limited gaali vocabulary, as I bathed. Three dress changes, two re-doings of hair, numerous futile attempts to make my eyes look less red and puffy and a bite of a chocolate later I was speeding away towards the domestic airport-again.

Later that afternoon I was walking up the road reflecting the happenings of the day. Yes, it had been satisfactory. And yet I was indifferent, maybe a little sad too, owing to a day before's debacle. But it was over. End of the mad journeys . I was so happy to walk alone, in an unknown city on a deserted road. It was extremely peaceful. But all these lazy thoughts were interrupted by an auto-rickshaw that pulled by. The man offered me a ride till the gate since he too was going there. No charge. Now that is a sort of thing that makes one wary, not happy. After all Mumbai is a big, bad city and auto-wallahs are actually wolves dressed up as Little Red Riding Hood's grandmas. Not quite so. I hopped in and as promised was dropped at the gate. Yes, without charge.

I had it all planned. The three hours were neatly charted in my mind. Agatha Christie and random roaming about the shops and I'll be done. Except..

" What do you mean a delay of three hours? Back to the old malpractices, are we?"  thundered the middle-aged, pot-bellied man.Slightly balding. This man, in front of me, had the same flight number on his boarding card as I would get in a couple of minutes( that frankly felt like hours). Oh darn! My flight has been delayed, thought I. That disrupts the plan. Ugh.
Meanwhile the shouting continued. " How can a flight that takes less than an hour be delayed for three hours? You people have no respect for the passengers' time. What? I don't care whether you sent me one sms or one thousand. It's doesn't matter. Why do I care that this sort of thing never happens with your airlines, it's happening to me now. Now, shift me to another flight that leaves early. WHY should I pay for another ticket? You made the mistake, you should correct it. It's not my problem. Call your supervisor. I can't see her coming. Are you lying? You are her superior? What's all this bullshit? Oh, you bloody well be sorry. But I don't need your apologies, I need a new flight. Why should I try to understand. FINE I'll wait!  But I will report this. I will file a complaint. I won't let you go away with it so easily". On this threatening note the man finally stepped aside to reveal a much annoyed lady sitting behind the desk and an exasperated one rushing elsewhere. The lady almost stifled a scream when she looked at my flight number. Maybe she was gearing up for another outburst from yet another cantankerous passenger. Which is why she was visibly pleased when I didn't turn out to be one.

Now six hours can be tedious. Even when you do all sorts of things like-reading, watching tv, changing your clothes for the heck of it, doing your hair, redoing your hair, scrubbing your face, getting some caffeine into your system, some more reading, observing the people, hogging at KFC, checking out an expensive set of pearls at a la-di-da jewelery store, going to the handbag store next and bookstore after that, taking more than your usual time in the restroom, walking all over the place. You can do all this and still you'll find some idle time to do nothing. As the boarding time drew closer, I did few of the above mentioned things again, found a nice seat, closed my eyes and waited for the announcement. Aaah...I was going in a trance.. relaxing, peaceful....noisy . Wait..Noisy?
There was someone shouting. Near the departure gate. That voice was familiar.Oh yes! That complaining man again. "But look at the time" I said to myself. "Did I fall asleep or something? It is well past the boarding time" I panicked. It wasn't. Apparently there was some more delay, and man was beside himself with rage.
" First you delay it for three hours. Then you don't put me on another flight. Now you're telling me that there is more delay"
"Yes Sir, I quite understand, but..."
"We PAY for it. Pay for the bloody ticket. Ha ya Na?"
"Sir, please listen to.."
"Tell me Ha ya na?"
"Sir.."
"HA YA NA? Yes or No?"
" That is true sir, but.."
"Then! Still you treat us like dogs. Telling us when to get on a flight. I will NEVER travel in this airlines. And I will tell everyone I can to do the same. You are unprofessional. Irresponsible. No respect for passengers. Inefficient. Worst treatment. I will tell everyone. You should be sued."
The guy on the receiving end was twice this man's height and ten times as fit. Someone who'd have any day beaten the rudeness out of this guy in a regular roadside brawl. But at that moment his hands were tied and he could do nothing better than to digest the diatribe with dignity.
Finally half an hour later, I fastened my seat-belt and took out my book. The plot was thickening. I was reading intently when...
PING PING PING PING!
"What the...oh crap!" thought I. The rude guy was seated in the adjacent row. The air-hostess came running
"Yes Sir?"
"Shouldn't the flight be taking off for us to reach Ahmedabad?"
"There is heavy air-traffic. We'll take off as soon as we get the signal"
I knew what was coming. I knew I wouldn't be able to read even a word from then on. I was right.
"WHAAAAAT? More delay? Are you kidding me? This is the limit. The limit I tell you"
The air hostess quite taken aback replied " Sir.please try to understand.."
"Try to understand what exactly? That's what you people have been telling me since the afternoon. Unprofessional jerks. That's what you people are. How much time?"
" 20-25 mins" she replied hesitatingly, unable to believe that somebody can be so rude.
The man grunted and she left. Thirty more minutes passed without us moving and as expected..
PING PING PING PING PING!
"Yes Sir?" said a new air hostess. Clearly the old one didn't want to come back
"That other girl said 25 minutes. It is 35 minutes now. Why are we not moving?"
"Sir, the air traffic..'
"Don't give me all that crap. When will we take off? Let me see the pilot"
"Sir the Captain said.."
"I don't want to listen to you (getting up) Take me to the pilot.."
At that moment the the plane moved towards the runway. Ten odd minutes later, it came to a halt.
PING PING PING PING
"Yes sir?" The first air-hostess was back. This time stony-faced.
"I want to get out of this flight. It is unlikely that it will fly tonight"
"Sir we were eleventh in number. Now we are fourth. A little more time sir"
"A little more time? Do you even wear a watch? I should've been at home four hours ago. But where am I? Stuck in this immobile plane. No no, get me out. Now"
"That is not possible sir. We'll be taking off any minute now. Please bear with us. Thank You"
The air hostess left as fast as she could with the man shouting after her. Ten more minutes later we finally took off. All was well. But Murphy doesn't like well. Which is why....
PING PING PING
"Yes sir?" said the exasperated air hostess
"Where is the food? I'm hungry. You make us wait for ages to get on this flight. Then it doesn't take off. And now there's no food. Why is this airline even functioning?"
"The food trolley will come shortly, sir"
"Wait. Where are the headphones? I can't find any?"
"There aren't any headphones sir. This flight doesn't have a screen, as you can see"
"Of course it doesn't. Why should it? Because how else will it accomplish its mission of being completely bogus. You should get an award for this. The worst airlines award. Huh"
" Sorry for the inconvenience, sir". But she didn't look sorry. If anything, she looked murderous.
As promised the food trolley arrived after a few minutes.A pleasantly smiling air-hostess was pushing it while asking everyone-"Would you like to buy something to eat?" She slowly approached the rude man and put her extra-fake-smile-mask on.
"So you did manage to bring the food before we landed. Feather in your hat. What all are you giving me?"
"You get to choose, sir. There's the menu"
"Hmm..Ok. Give me a chicken sandwich, a mexican wrap, this salad thingy and coffee"
(Handed over the food) "That'll be five hundred and fifty rupees sir".The man looked at her as if she was mad.
"I am supposed to PAY for all this? Do you think I'm a first time traveler? An Idiot?"
I suspect she certainly agreed with the Idiot part, but refrained from saying yes. She then calmly replied
" Sir, your airfare is not inclusive of food charges. That used to happen earlier. Now you have to buy your food. It is so in all private airlines."
" Which is why I won't be travelling in one after this fiasco. Take the money and get me a complaint form. And please don't tell me I have to buy that too".
"I'll do that, sir"
The poor air-hostess brought a booklet type form and handed it over with a pleasant (fake) smile, probably all the time wishing to kick his ass. Respect.
"This space is too little for my complaints. Get me another form". She pursed her lips and got another form. The man started working on his vituperative feedback form with relish. The air hostess walked away with supreme indifference. Again, Respect.
Finally the flight landed and while getting down the rude guy (who was ahead of me in the queue.Ugh) handed over two feedback forms, now filled with bitter words, and said "Make sure you give them to the right people. I will also mail and call the concerned authorities to report this ill-treatment, so don't think you can throw that away".
"We don't intend to do any of that, sir. Your feedback is very valuable for us and all your complaints will be addressed. Thank You for flying with us."

The rude man went away grunting.. And I was left to ponder about the crassness that the Indian service sector has to put up with to match up to the global standards. The ranting Indian is everywhere around us. Sometimes, even within us.

Book shook

Yes yes, we all know facebook is a phenomenon. Was rather. After a good many attention seeking celebs who's who have thronged Twitter, it can be safely said that the birdie has dethroned the brainchild of a couple of Harvard geeks.
Thankfully, I don't get inundated with twitter requests any longer.What's the point, one asks, in having five degrees of connectivity (viz. phone, in person, facebook, gtalk, orkut-in that order) with the same set of people.None at all, one answers.The list below enumerates five things that i find irritating,rummy, amusing-all at once about facebook.

5. Privacy

When I was a rookie facebooker, I used to have a deal of trouble with the privacy of my virtual world activities. It was about that time I made up this phrase- "On facebook, I fart and everybody knows".I would tell it to anybody who'd listen.It was my finest line of defense against belittling of Orkut. Soon after I was told discovered about the privacy settings. I heaved a sigh of relief that I'd be able to take quizzes like 'Which Disney princess are you?' without being silently smirked at. I wish other people dovetailed this opinion of keep-it-private. But do they? Na-uh. No, I am not complaining but it's hard to keep a straight face at your seemingly drab and simpleton, door-se-hi-hello-college guy, when he passes by saying 'hey', because 18 hours ago you read on news feed that his ideal position would be cowgirl style!

4. Like

The only problem with this feature is that it is a gazillion times cooler than the people who use it.I suspect that most people use 'like' just to use it and not because they actually liked something. Any compulsive facebooker worth his salt wakes up groggy eyed in the mornings and even before he cleans his nictitating membranes or removes plaque from his teeth, he'likes' at least five different stuff on facebook. Don't be taken aback if you ever come across a status message that says- I just peed, and five people 'like' it.

3. The farmers,the dons, the friends and the lovers

There has been one direct consequence of Copenhagen summit. It has given huge impetus to the environment awareness, and as a result more people are planting trees-so what if it's on farmville.As my sarcasm skills are rudimentary I would cut to the chase and say-It's annoying! Ignoring ten farmville requests a day is annoying. Receiving bananas and pineapples every time you go online is annoying. My homepage filled with news feed of people moving up levels in farmville is oh-so-annoying.
If there's anything more annoying it's Mafia wars.I thought we were done with the Corleone family-inspired drama after screen adaptations of The Godfather. But the appetite for crime, it seems, is wolfish.
The good news is that these two are dying their natural deaths. The bad news is that friends and lovers have been ushered in to fill in their shoes. Yes, I'm talking about 'friend of the day', and'lover of the day'. Only if one could respond with publishing the bugger of the day and the nutter of the day respectively.

2. Social Interview, compare friends, and many such random questioning games

Now, hold that frown. Before you ask what do I have against these light-hearted applications, I would take a moment to ask what do these applications have against me? I'm not being..well..what do you call it..standoffish(?) without any reason. I don't mind my close friends answering intimate questions about me, but for people I know formally, answering such questions is not at all in good taste. And I know these secret analysts are the ones with whom I've hardly exchanged a word or two, because my friends have better jobs than pondering over my virginity or giving utterly revolting answers like i don't care much about books!
If you too, my dear reader, belong to this ilk of people who answer random questions about people who're as good as strangers,then pray accept this advice- Please oh please go get a life!

1. Orkutification of facebook

I do not mean it in a pejorative sense. I have a sentimental connection with Orkut, something that facebook can never achieve. I'm merely pointing out that facebook is going the same way as orkut. I'm getting the warning signals. Thrice, I've so far received 'frandship' requests in the garb of 'I want to do friendship with you'. Further still, check out what kind of communities have mushroomed. You'll be able to find a community on 'Na aana is des laado', and on'Agle janam mohe bitiya hi kijo' etc. I'm telling you, it's not looking good.The migration stats are growing by leaps and bounds. I fear...I fear very much that this too shall bite the dust.And when that happens people will drift to the little blue bird's territory. But as I've had enough,count me out.

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.

daily grumbles

Well it turned out that the the last submission wasn't the last one after all. Due to the lax course of action of some people,we'll have to go again tomorrow,and maybe some other day as well to get back the files..uff..it feels like a punishment to travel in such a sweltering weather :(

In the meanwhile,I am undergoing an emotional upheaval. I mean,how oblivious can a person be? It is so obvious! how much more of a fool am I suppose to make of myself?
world full of retards..huh! :x

And I am definitely gonna go to ccd tomorrow-with or without company! I still can't believe what happened today.How my rather gluttonous friends bullied me into stop going there and literally dragged me to kabir instead,absolutely quelling my tantrums ("I am not hungry,I am thirsty!).

gosh! I am becoming such a complain mistress.. :D

eschew obfuscation

I don't know if Murphy was my hubby in the past life. He just doesn't leave me alone!! The more I try to crawl near a conclusion,the more he pushes me back to square one. There should some uncertainity element in life-agreed,but what does one do when there is a supefluity of uncertainities?

I am very frustrated today...actually that would be an understatement.I am livid with anger. Yes,it is anger for sure. I am sick of mixed signals. I wish i were psychic.

ps: Why such a fancy title? Because this is what i do when i am angry..I use complicated,irrelevant words and chew bubblegum.

in a jiffy!

It is so unfair that one can't type with the same speed with which one thinks..in the past two days so much has happened of which i'd like to keep a record..but alas! i keep forgetting!and now with this blog thing,i am all the more hell bent to remember stuff..so if something offbeat or even humdrum occurs,i make a mental note to put it up in the blog,so that maybe ten years down the line,i won't have to put in almost two months' worth of effort only to remember that my friends in college call me neelu( and i do NOT like this name).it's all about preventing our memories from dwindling away with time.past,present or fututre,it's still mine.and i love it! which is why i'm always going to keep the pages of my diary updated:) (for some reason..i keep calling this thing a diary instead of a blog.)
I am hell tired today.I had been roaming about in the college throughout the day,taking part in whatever on the spot events i could(oh,it's techfest season of the year again!).i took part in four,qualified for the further rounds in three( quiz was never my cuppa,my gk sucks! :D).and tomorrow's going to be such a hotchpotch..i know it! the organisation is so messed up.last year's fest was loads better.
now,because my father asked for the comp for the fifth time in the last hour(i am very stubborn,am i not?) i'll have to end this post here.but before doing so,i should list down all those thoughts that have been flooding out of my mind of late.i am just setting a reminder for myself to contemplate/discuss/dissect these matters in the posts that would follow.
-desai sir.
-people in amts buses.
-why i opine the guys in my class are trash.
-school life :)
-college life.
-friends,somewhat friends,almost friends,acquaintances.
-some random grumbles.
-some random gratitudes.
-my favorite teachers.
-my stringent nature-sign manias.
-how people butcher my existing name and provide with even horrible ones.
-daily chronicles
plenty of stuff coming up :)

stupid submissions

Best ways to squander time- orkut(once in a blue moon facebook too),phone,smses,tv,youtube,radio,reading fokat ka books at crossword,shopping(real/window) etc.

Worst way to kill(as squander,waste and all the related synonyms would way to underrepresent this one) time- submissions!

For the lucky people,who have not been misfortunate enough to be subjected to the trauma of this abominable system,i'll throw some light on the procedure of this inferno.For those who are victims like me-well so what if we can't change it,we can still lash out at it at!
Well..so submissions basically is way devised by the university(GU) to tell it's students-"hey,we don't actually care whether or not have you learnt anything in this semester but because we have a fixation for chronicles,we want to have a record of your work".The college seconds university's opinion,reflects for a moment and adds-"and also,we have perennial dearth of rough pages,so it would be really nice on your part if you provide us with some.
So,decision made.We are going to give away some banal,crappy tutorials which will make sure that these unruly,slothful kids spend chunks of their leisure time scribbling away.and lengthy..make it lengthy to ensure we get more number of pages after these get submitted(read:flung away).But wait,do we sound unfair?No way! We are righteous people and so we will give you a lot of liberties.We would not mind(or be able to find out) if you copy it from someone else instead of doing it yourself.Erroneous language is totally acceptable(chalega nahi daudega),so don't worry if you have copied down-the process variable is increases,or spelled acquisition in data acquisition system as acquicition.totally acceptable.don't worry if you don't do it till the last hour.just get the file signed on the submission day-we're flexible!If you don't wanna do it at all-no issues,get your friends on the work because even though we can smell and tell what's on menu at iit-gn's canteen above,our handwriting discrimination power sucks.Go ahead,do whatever you want,in whatever way you want.All we are asking for is a properly assembled file that we can check and then give the pastiwallahs some bread to earn".
Conclusion: Submissions = hell down under-in Hell
ps: doesn't matter how much i whine,i still have to go back and complete my instrumentation system's sketchbook:36cm*27cm,10 pages-back and front with stencils :(
son of a bitch :x