MNIB

My name is Basu, and I am not totally impressed.

I anticipated MNIK to be a for sure sob story. I, thus, very carefully folded a handkerchief and kept it inside my purse. Khan always makes me cry. Each movie of his evokes pathos in me every single time I watch it.But surprisingly it wasn't as much of a tearjerker as I expected it to be! Not that I didn't wet my eyes-of course I did! But then I am mawkishly sentimental while watching soppy tales. I cry at almost every movie! But, in this particular movie others didn't cry as much as was expected of them. It was an SRK movie for god's sake, it is imperative to cry!

Anyway, my friends didn't like it much. I did. I'm a die hard SRK fan. I'm a die hard romantic movies fan. I love the surname Khan. Obviously I liked it.

And about Khan, the surname I mean. It can be said that the movie is loosely Khan centered (both the actor and the title). It is shown that circumstances arise when people start getting discomforted by it . But why? I love it! There's so much weight in it. Those who have this last name must be thrilled (or so I expect) to carry such incredible history and lineage with them. Now, I understand that the antagonism for 'Khan', as shown in the movie, has to do with the religion (that bears the brunt of terrorism) and not with anything else. But that's a topic which I refrain from touching now, as it requires a lot of time, blogger space and the right frame of mind.

Movies affect me. More than I think, that is. Every time I watch I watch a new movie, I think about it, in terms of it. I stay wholly/partially immersed in it for at least a week. Maybe that is one of the plausible reasons why I'm so unrealistically filmy in my real life. I daydream a lot about how my life would be (mark the words-'would be', not 'should be') someday. I concoct tales. About how something extraordinary would happen to me, how it would be a bolt from the blue for me, how I would rise to the occasion(it's my movie so I get to be the protagonist, right?). And then I just love weaving these imaginary characters, who always play the roles I chalk out for them, always speak the lines I want them to speak, and always wear clothes that I mentally design for them. Freakish though it might seem, but I usually don't rest till I find the right dialogues, or right introductory plots, or right dressing for my imaginary characters. Even as I type this I'm smiling to myself thinking of how a medico friend of mine would react to all this. I suppose he'd vociferously begin to diagnose my 'condition'. I can actually hear him say-"You might be affected by muggawuggawugga (uff, these medical jargons! unpronounceable i tell you!) neurological disorder". And that would be follwed by citation of hazzaar abstruse theories (not to mention the explanation of each one) that support the claim. Oh, I'm a psycho alright. :)

The nation wide V-day hoopla is finally over. Thank god. No, I'm not being cynical. I deal with facts here. I talked to eight different people yesterday, and couldn't help noticing that they were not half as cheerful as they usually are (and mind you they're all exceptionally jovial people). Status messages of many people only resonated the not-so-high-spirits. It's strange, isn't it? How come a day dedicated to love and happiness ends up making so many feel miserable? If I speak for myself, I get a little put off by the predictable nature of the day. As Oscar Wilde had put it-'Uncertainty is the essence of romance'. Nothing about Valentine's day is entirely uncertain. But that doesn't mean, I don't wallow into the mushy atmosphere of the day :) I read each and every V-day special article in the papers, even the message columns! Most of these messages are silly to the core, and asinine are the nicknames that people resort to for avoiding recognition. To gulabjamun from laddoo, to bakbak from chupchap, to jaadu cute prince from chaku- it's idiocy in print ! However, in this sea of unknown people with fake names and internet-acquired rhyming couplets, there was actually a message that I liked. I don't know who it was for or from, but it was nice-Hmm..now what was it..like an autumn leaf I withered in your arms...oh I wish I could remember it. It wasn't a poetry, but was very beautiful and meaningful.

I should seriously stop posting stuff at nights. My head gets inundated with thoughts/incidents I want to include but I then get all drowsy after a while and decide to make all the left out things into another post someday. That almost never happens; a fresh new day, a million new thoughts!

suitable,indeed!

Neelanjana Basu is violently in love with a suitable boy ;)

Well..that makes me sound like the foolish girl Lydia of Jane Austen's 'Pride and Prejudice'. Ugh!

Maybe I should consider,

Neelanjana Basu has finally laid her hands on a suitable boy ;)

No, no..that would appear unnecessarily bold.

How about, Neelanjana Basu has finally found a suitable boy ;) ?

Umm..but that statement might as well have come out of the larynx of a conservative girl with

marriage-is-the-mission-of-my-life etched upon her forehead.Nayh, I will give it a skip.

Of course I can play the honestly card and simply stick to,

Neelanjana Basu is reading the book- a suitable boy.

But that would eliminate the double meaning from the statement, take away the fun part!

No, I'm not a fan of talking (or even writing for that matter) in third person. I stopped doing it ever since I turned five. I was trying to contemplate an appropriate status message for my facebook account. But then the nature of responses that this status message might have drawn had I most imprudently put it up discouraged me hugely.Hugely.Thankfully. It both amuses and appalls me at the same time- the way most people are unable to put two words of sense together while commenting on status messages. A friend had once put up a status of 'just woke up' .Three people 'liked' it. Worse still, a few went on to type-" hey, me too!"

Anyway, I'm so sick of these networking sites that I'm almost certain now that my days on such highfalutin territories are numbered. One of these days...oh, one of these days for sure..

I'm in a rather acerbic mood at the moment. And this, after having multiple mood swings since morning. Cheerful, when I woke up. Dreamy, when I went for a walk. Hopeful, after having walked several footsteps. Responsible, after father left me a job to get done. Temporarily relieved, after talking to a friend. Despondent, after talking to another. The despondency lingered for the entire afternoon, for it aggravated my grievance. Crying doesn't always lead to catharsis. Lost, while watching the random television programs. Impatient, when the repair person had still not arrived. Anguished, when my mind kept drifting to the reason of my downheartedness. Indignant, at the sheer unfairness of life. Doubtful, of my seemingly cursed fate. Slightly appeased after deciding to go to Crossword. Calm, after being transferred to a fictitious world of fictitious people. Annoyed, after returning to mine. Silent, while dining. Indifferent, while watching a re-run episode of friends. And acerbic now. But I've already written that, haven't I? Not the best of the days. Yes, it was a very unhappy day indeed.

But the few happier moments were the ones that I spent at the bookstore. This is the reason I love that place. It has an uncanny calming effect on me. Not just the books, the bookshop too. So, I picked up a book that I wanted to read for a very long time. I'm barely through one-tenths of A Suitable Boy, and already I'm getting this feeling that there's a distinct possibility that this might

become one of my favorites. I didn't purchase it. I mean, well..I know it is worth seven hundred rupees but of late I've been withdrawing a lot of money from my account and consequently a bit short-handed at the moment. Besides, that place has such a charm that I'd have wanted to sit there and read even if I'd bought it. It is blissful to visit on weekdays. No garrulous people, who after their unrestrained shopping spree at a mall nearby think it to be their moral duty to bring their kids to a 'worthwhile' place as well. Some sights are rather cute. Mommies reading out to their kiddos, or daddies explaining their darlings the meaning of a word or another. But the store attracts a good deal of pretentious crowd as well. They're the ones who bother me. Oh, but never mind those fakers. I don't pay much attention to them as long as I've got a place to sit and read peacefully. As I made my way to a comfy couch, my book clutched in my hand( well..that's not entirely true. It is so bulky that you need both your hands to hold it!) I realized that I was thirsty. I chose to ignore it. After reading a few pages, I read the word 'Ganges' and I felt thirsty again. The more I thought of thirst, the thirstier I got. When it could no longer be ignored, I headed for the cafeteria that is within the store. Now, these are exactly the kind of social situations that I feel awkward to be in. Going to an eating joint all by yourself and that too when all you want is a glass of water. To make the matters more awkward it was totally deserted.

"You don't have to order something only because you want water to go with it. It's perfectly OK to ask for just a glass of water. A lot of people do that, so what?It isn't a crime for god's sake!" I kept reminding myself. But even before these instructions could properly sink in my head, the counter-opinion side of the mind blurted out-" What a cheapskate! How ruthlessly you would shatter his hopes of finally earning some money. If it is deserted in such a beautiful evening, there's no chance he'd have had a single customer during the day". But before a rational conclusion could be reached between opinion and counter-opinion, I found myself saying,

"One cappuccino please".

As he began to brew, I added- " Can I have a glass of water please". Nicely done, thought I.

"Erm..You have to buy a bottle" replied the aproned guy.

"Oooh..kay, gimme one then". (Goddammit! :x)

Yeah, so I ended up paying rupees sixty and two for a sip of water.

I hate it when I'm like this. Too much uptight, too much of what-would-they-think-of-me types. This always coincides with my unhappy mood. I'm so much cooler when I'm happy. Totally unworried, even flaky at times. I love my happier, confident self. Wish I had a control over my mood swings.

A character in the book reminded me of a totally irrelevant person. Not because they bear any resemblance, but because my mind is a wandering freak. There are times when you're reading something particular and you randomly think of a person, to your own surprise. Later, every single time you read that particular thing you would be reminded of that very person who was a random selection of your brain in the first place. I don't know how this stuff works. But it does, at least it does for me. So, this person (not the character, the real one)-I despise him and I don't know why! He's just a random college guy I happen to know by chance. He isn't a friend or classmate or not even an acquaintance. We've never spoken, not even indirectly. And yet every time I see him I'm overcome by a feeling of resentment..for it has to be resentment. And call me a psycho or whatever, I think he reciprocates my cold gesture. There are vibes you can just feel. When someone doesn't like you, you know. Just the way you know when someone does. I've tried, not in vain, to extricate myself from the pool of such negativities. Have been half-successful. Now maybe because I've somehow got myself to believe that bad things would happen to me when this person is around, they actually do! And as a cover-up for my own shortcomings I pass the buck to him and convince myself by saying bitterly " Only because He was there". No, this won't do. Blaming random people for my own faults won't do. Also, I can't afford to prevaricate anymore.

I had to edit the previous line four times, which means I'm quite drowsy.

I hope Ms.Sullen Mood departs for good,

And pray, make haste, if she kindly would.

I hope she sets up her dwelling far far away,

And if she tries to creep back, may she go astray.

:-)

life aaj kal

My ears continue to pain even as I type this. I have little idea of how many decibels were actually pounding against my ears last night.

Had gone to Chaos :)

Chaos is the name of the annual cultural festival of IIM-A, the most coveted B-School of India. By just stepping inside the institute one can actually feel the brainwaves pervading the air. The people in there must be oh-so-smart. Indeed, that's why my attention kept drifting to the dozen insti students standing lazily at the upper hallways of the buildings surrounding the famed Louis Kahn Plaza, than the huge crowd that was thronging the LKP.

I just love the Joie de Vivre of concerts. It unites people. People who don't even know each other. And the best part is that you don't have to know the other people for bonding with them. You need not know their identities. Not before, not after, not even during celebrating music. When hundreds of people are cheering and clapping for the same music, swaying to rhythm of the same music and when the same source is making all of them euphoric, then at that moment a magical string ties them together in a way that is next to impossible in the real life domain(now see, how similar it sounds to real time domain..but never mind that now.) But it's beautiful, isn't it? We're all strangers, there comes a moment when suddenly we're not, and when the moment's over we again go on to be strangers.

Music is magic. Magic is might.

And yet music remains to be the most underestimated power. How sad.

Now because Sonu Nigam (What's with this Niigaam-numerology anyway?) was performing-obviously Uttara had to mail Sonuji to say how miserable she felt that she was not in a'bad and obviously he had to reply to his biggest fan alive. And obviously she decided to listen to his voice on phone because she was obviously more excited than the entire crowd put together. So obviously she called.And obviously stayed on phone till we were there. And obviously I had to use 'obviously' an obscene number of times to make it obvious that-hey, it's Uttara we're talking about. It's passion at it's best with no destructive obsession-obviously!

The final semester has begun in full swing. And this one is so different from the ones we had till now. Because it's not the regular college sem. It's a project centered sem. I'm doing my project faaar away from college-that makes me happy. And it happens to be verrry close to home-that makes me happier. But what makes me happiest is the fact that I'm doing it in a place that will ensure tremendous exposure in terms of knowledge and learning. For those who're interested in instruments and electronics Space Applications Centre , Dept of space, ISRO is the finest place in the country to be in. I had always heard that as a kid, when mummy-papa log used to talk. But some things can be understood well only by experiencing. Plus walking by the lush sloping gardens makes me so nostalgic. I remember the days when we'd play and roll on these grass slopes on Kaumi Ekta Diwas (Communal Integration Day) while waiting for the results of the Drawing Competition :).Vikram Sarabhai hall was where the presentation ceremony and quiz session took place. That too, comes in the way of the department I do my project in.

And the fact that I have my friends around is like an icing on the cake! Since all of our respective projects are at incipient stages, we can afford to wander about a little as of now. Breathe some fresh air, amble to each others' departments, stare at the lovely peacocks, eat in the cafeteria, share our experiences. Of course, we get just one hour to do all of this-but that's OK, for we make the most of whatever we get! But this carefree life isn't going to last for long. A few days into feb and we'll see a sea change..(*gets tensed*)

Republic day went fine. Saw President Pratibha Devisingh Patil hoist the national flag at 10:18 A.M on Doordarshan. It's extremely shameful that most of the Indians don't know the exact time at which it should be hoisted and the significance of this time. After the school got over, I never sang the National Anthem everyday. Just two days per year. Despite this 'Jan gan man..' never fails to instill a feeling of immense pride in me. I don't understand why people refrain from watching this ceremony. Some think it's boring. Well, of course watching the brave soldiers being felicitated and decorated with Ashok Chakra is boring! Why don't these people combat the terrorists/naxalites on their own then? That would be pretty exciting.Huh! Shameless ingrates.

We don't do anything for our country as such. The least a person can do is heartily applaud the people who do. Went down to the Vikki garden next,where Republic Day is a big event-rightly and rightfully so.

Apart from this, the only new news is- I got a haircut :)

Mother wasn't too pleased. God knows why! It's not even that noticeable. I and mamma have always been at loggerheads regarding my hairstyle since my childhood days. As a girl, I always wanted to have long hair like her, like Kajol in the second half of Kuch kuch hota hain, like Hema ma'am, like Divya Rangarajan, like Divya Nair, like the ladies who advertised for hair oils (*dabur aamlaa kesh tel, resham sa ehsaas lage, chehra kitna khaas lage, dabur aamlaa kesh tel*), but inspite of my severe pangs of desire to grow it long my mother would firmly tell the barber "Rasna cut" or at the most "Baby cut". In rasna cut I would have fringes covering the front of my forehead like the little girl in the ad of rasna ('I love you rasna'), in baby cut I won't. But in either cuts my hair would not reach beyond my ears. My mother's reason for having my beautiful hair chopped off? (yes, in those days my hair was actually beautiful. Jet black and dense) Well..according to her there was not one reason but many.A) Aunties have long hair B) Little girls look good in short hair C) Divya Rangarajan, Divya Nair and the other girls in your class have a horrible infestation of lices, and if you get it from them, it is easier to use an anti-lice shampoo on short hair. D) Look at the brighter prospect, you don't have to tie your hair like other girls in school. You can always keep it untied.

Reason D) was the only reason I used to agree to the brutal hair-shortening session. All others had to tie theirs into ponytails and plaits..haha..and I would look different and stylish in my untied, embellished-with- cute-clips hair. Plus they can't punish me. I'll just say- "Ma'am, it's too short to be tied up" :D

But it's a total opinion reversal now. The thing is when I came to college I started growing my hair against my mother's wish...and she started liking it! So much so, that she frowns even before I speak 'Haircut'. Now her reasons are A) You're a big girl now. B) Big girls should have long hair

C) There's no Divya Rangarajan or Divya Nair in your class now, who carry generations of lices on their heads. D) Hair of appreciable length looks good with almost everything.

Option D) always appeals. It's my secret manipulative plan cum mission to tell her the best way of instant hair lengthening-hair straightening ;) Oh, she'll agree sooner or later.

Only if one could type at the same speed one thought.

Anecdotes of some great scientists

I absolutely love compiling such stuff. These are a few personal favorites:-

Who's the creator?

The story is told of an atheist scientist, a friend of Sir Isaac Newton, who knocked on the door and came in after he had just finished making his solar system machine(i.e one of the machines like one in the science museum where you crank the handle and the planets and the moon moves round). The man saw the machine and said "how wonderful" and went over to it and started cranking the handle and the planets moved round. As he was doing this he asked, "Who made this?"
Sir Isaac stopped writing and said "nobody did". Then he carried on writing.
The man said "You didn't hear me. Who made the machine?"
Newton replied, "I told you. Nobody did".
He stopped to cranking and turned to Isaac, "Now listen Isaac, this marvelous machine must have been made by somebody-don't keep saying that nobody made it".
At which point Isaac Newton stopped writing and got up. He looked at him and said, "Now isn't it amazing. I tell you that nobody made a simple toy like that and you don't believe me. Yet you gaze out into the solar system-the intricate marvelous machine that is around you-and you dare say to me that none made that. I don't believe it".
As far as the record goes the atheist went away and he was no longer an atheist. He was suddenly converted to the idea that God was behind the laws that were found in the creation.

It's 'relatively' easy

Here's a story about how Albert Einstein was travelling to universities in a chauffer-driven car delivering lectures on his theory of relativity. One day while in transit, the chauffer remarked: "Dr. Einstein, I've heard you deliver that lecture 30 times. I know it by heart and give it myself."
"Well, I'll give you a chance", said Einstein. "They don't know me at the next college, so when we go there I'll put your cap and you introduce yourself as me and give the lecture."
The chauffer delivered Einstein's lecture flawlessly. When he finished, he started to leave, but one of the professors stopped him and asked a complex question filled with mathematical equations and formulae. The chauffer thought fast. "The solution to that problem is so simple," he said, "I'm surprised that you have to ask me. In fact, to show you how simple it is, I'm going to ask my chauffer to come up here and answer your question."

Srinivasa Ramanujam:1729

Srinivasa Ramanujam was a mathematical prodigy. "I remember once going to see him when he was lying ill at Putney," the mathematician G.H. Hardy once remarked. "I had ridden in a taxicab number 1729, and remarked that the number seemed to me a rather dull one, and that I hoped it was not an unfavourable omen."
"No, ' he replied, 'it is a very interesting number; it is the smallest number expressible as the sum of two cubes in two different ways."
[" Every positive integer," Hardy later remarked, "was one of his personal friends." Despite receiving little formal education, Ramanujam was discovered by Hardy, to whom he sent some of his first papers. Hardy later gave Ramanujam a rating of 100 on his own scale of "pure talent". Hardy's own rating? 25.]

Beating the drum

In 1996 the famed Nobel Prize winning physisist Richard Feynman, a passionate drummer, was asked by a Swedish encyclopedia publisher to supply a photograph of hiself "beating the drum to give a human approach to a presentation of the difficult matter that theoretical physics represents."
Feynman's reply?
Dear sir,
The fact that I beat a drum has nothing to do with the fact that I do theoretical physics. Theoretical physics is a human endeavor, one of the higher developments of human beings, and the perpetual desire to prove that people who do it are human by showing that they do other things that a few other humans do (like playing bongo drums) is insulting to me. I am human enough to tell you to go to hell.
Yours, RPF.


I have loads to write on life these days, but my old foe, one of the seven sins-sloth-is preventing me to type any further.
Peace out!
PS: The blog looks much better after adding a couple of fun gadgets. The fish pond is the best :)
PPS: That's precisely why blogging at blogspot is better than doing the same at wordpress, bigadda etc :) :)

new

A fresh new beginning
A fresh new place
A fresh new atmoshpere
A fresh new experience
A fresh new post, and
A fresh new template!

:-)

aam chori, chappal chori! :D :D :D

A silly childhood game..just like that :D

Aam chori
(clap! clap! clap!)
Chappal chori
(clap! clap! clap!)
Garam masala
(clap! clap! clap!)
Paani-poori
(clap! clap! clap!)

Aam chori, chappal chori
Garam masala, paani-poori
Dus patte tode,
Ek patta kaccha,
Hiran ka baccha,
Hiran gaya paani mein,
Pakda uski naani ne,
Nani ko bulaaenge,
Ras-malaai khaaenge,
Ras-malaai khatti,
Nani ki humse katti,
Naani gai jain mein,
Hum gaye rail mein,
Rail mein khaya biscuit,
Biscuit thi achhi,
Humne khaai machhi,
Machhi mein nikla kaanta,
Naani ne maaraa chaanta,
Chaante se niklaa khoon,
jaldi karo telephoon,
Telephone mein taar nahi,
Hum tumhaare yaar nahi,
Hum ne ladaye panje,
Tum ho gaye (with a tap on the other player's skull) ganje!

Whoever taps first wins!! :) :) :)

Zihaal-e-masti maqun ba ranjish bahaal-e-hijra bechaaraa dil hain,
sunaai deti hain jiski dhadkan, tumhaaraa dil ya humaaraa dil hain.

In Hindi:
Is gareeb ke dil ko itni ranjish (gusse) se na dekho
Yeh bechara abhi bhi (mehboob ki) judaai se behaal hai.

In English:
Don't look at my heart with such hatred and anger, My heart is poor soul who is still in agony and pain because my beloved has departed.

Verbatim nearly kills the beauty of the original verse, but without it we would never know that it was beautiful to begin with!

baah..just a random song that crossed my mind, googled it for no reason, posting it for no reason.

I have noticed how excessively I use the word 'random'!
Mamma got me a new 2010 diary. It is a handsome large diary!! The blog's got some competition now. I'll name it soon. Maybe I'll call it Nirvana like the previous one. For various reasons. I like the band ,I like sanskrit (was my elective at school), I'm fascinated by Buddhism and I LOVE the meaning- liberation from unhappiness, illumination, the ideal condition of rest, joy, stability, peace, harmony. It's beautiful! I wish I could have this name instead of the stupid name I have :x
But then, I can also call it kimaya. Dunno. Shall see.