The Great Indian Goofups

History repeats itself. And so do the loopholes and controversies that lie in the history of India...

Some people say Gandhiji's last words were not 'Hey Ram'. He just sighed and died. And his followers who believed that a great man would die in a great great way made up the story. A book quotes Gandhiji's assassin Nathuram Godse saying that Gandhiji did not use the above-mentioned words which have been etched on Gandhiji's samadhi as well.

Some people say Taj Mahal is actually Tejo Mahal, a Shiva temple and what lies in the basement are defaced Hindu idols. It is supported by details like - Taj Mahal has at the apex is a trident, a motif often used in Hindu temples.

Some people say Divya Bharati died after she fell from a cliff. Why would a lady in all her senses fall all of a sudden?

Some people say Netaji Subhashchandra Bose was alive and had become a spiritual guru until recently. Another version says that the Indian leaders who hated him threatened him and asked him to disappear - never to return. The history books say he was kiled in an airplane crash but his body was not recovered from the site.

Some people believe India won the match against Australia recently after the Buckner issue. Another version brings forth the number of Indian sponsors and the popularity the game enjoys in India.

History has different versions. Often, the more powerful names in the society have managed to cover up details and facts. On the other hand, often, the more powerful names have been wrongly accused of covering up details and facts. Many times, they literally 'create' history.

If only time could speak for itself...

Ward no. 2106 - SERIES 06

Disclaimer - The story is a work of fiction. The names of characters and places are imaginary. So are the incidents described.

The story till now: James is extremely worried about Kanika. He remembers how she has reacted to situations in the past and breaks down. Parvati aaji comes near him to console him.

The hustle and the bustle of the street had begun to increase as the evening set in. But then, There were two people in the ward who were cut off from the world - Parvati Aaji and James. James sat besides Parvati Aaji as he sobbed away and narrated the story of Kanika. A rich girl with ambitions, who went on displacing people from her life. Only to turn lonely.

He had met Kanika at a party a few years ago. She looked like a crazy girl then. She loved bikes, she loved speed. She loved adventure sports. And that's what clicked James. James and Kanika got along like a house on fire - they became best of friends. That's when Kanika told James how lonely she was.

Kanika was consumed with hatred for her parents. It was a generation gap that had grown over time and was as wide as generations. Kanika, as a child, was pampered to hell. Later, the parents tried to calm her down. But Kanika wouldn't understand.

Every time they scolded her, Kanika thought they did not like her. That was because of a secret that was disclosed to her at the age of ten - she was an adopted child. As a teen, Kanika always felt distanced from her parents. It was like an island in the house - an island where Kanika lived alone. This existence of loneliness changed into indifference to people. Everyone. And an incompleteness from within.

James had always seen this incompleteness in her eyes. James could not forget how it would make it presence felt in the star-gazing nights, the movies together, the sweet nothings whispered in the ear.

James broke down again. Parvati Aaji patted him on the back, "James, you have to be strong now. You have to take care of her. Don't worry, she'll be fine. I will pray for her." James looked at Parvati Aaji and said, "By the way, I even asked the officials here for a private room. They say all of them are full currently and she would have to be here for another week atleast. If she finds out she was here and not at a private room, she will go mad at me!!"

Parvati Aaji smiled and said, "She will not be mad at you. It'll all be fine." And Parvati Aaji was consoling James for the next hour. How was she related to him? She wasn't. Why did she feel connected to this story he was narrating? She did not know. The two were connected by a thread stronger than any relationship in the world - humanity.

That night, Kanika gained consciousness. As she opened her eyes, she looked at the ceiling. Her dark circles and the empty eyes were a pitiful sight. Kanika looked like a warrior defeated by life as she looked at the ceiling with a blank gaze. There was a time when this beautiful princess was surrounded by people. And as fate would have had it, today she had only one person who loved her dearly. That person kissed her on the forehead as he saw her opening her eyes. Dr. Umesh was called.

"Glad to see you awake, Miss. Kanika", that was Dr. Umesh at his charming best, "Let me call the specialists who would want to see you."

"What am I doing here?", Kanika mumbled.

"Miss. Kanika, you met with an....", Dr. Umesh tried to explain, the smile on his face was intact. James interfered, "Kani, you met with an accident..." and narrated the entire story to her. Throughout this period, Kanika's eyes were spinning - looking around.

Parvati aaji approached their bed, "Kanika bete, I am Parvati Damle. You can call me Aaji. James told me about the two of you. He is a really sweet guy I must say..."

Kanika glared at her, "Mind your own business!" And there were few seconds of awkwardness. Parvati aaji went back to her bed, James was feeling really awkward. Dr. Umesh excused himself from the room.

For the next ten minutes, the room was silent. James looked at Parvati aaji again and again - the lady who was consoling him and hearing him out some time back, was now sleeping in her bed.

Deepdan

(Based on a Rajasthani folklore)

She was a Rajputani who had served the king since her childhood. Her name was Pannabai. Panna handled the affairs of the palace after the death of the queen. She also was raising the prince, Prince Uday who was of the same age as her son, Chandan.

Fate struck when the minister Banveer killed the king through a treachery. His next target was the last heir to the throne from the royal family - Uday.

Deepdan was a festival when everyone would light lamps and let them go in the river. There would be joy all over - dance, music and food. Luckily, during the dance at the palace, Banveer disclosed his intentions when drunk to the royal danseuse, Sona. Sona rushed to Pannabai and told her - since Banveer was on his way too.

Panna knew Banveer would come. He did. And attacked the sleeping prince with his sword. The prince in the bed bled profusely and died.

Banveer was about to leave the palace when Pannabai called out to him. She took him to the bed where lay a small boy dead and turned the boy to show Banveer his face. It was her son, Chandan. She had sent away Uday to a foreign land where he would be safe.

Panna had lived up to her blood. By giving up the boy made of her blood. She had sacrificed her motherhood for the province she belonged to. Panna had done her Deepdan... in a way only she could!

Wireless Electricity

A wi-fi network allows multiple computers to connect wirelessly with each other.

It can be configured to access internet as well.

A new breakthrough says that very soon, (hold your breath) ELECTRICITY will go wireless too. This new form has been named after the words 'Wireless Electricity' as WiTricity.

Here, You would have an adapter in each room. And all you need to do is switch on your device. This would be certainly something our generation will be proud of giving the world!!

Imagine entering a room with a toaster in your hand. With no power cord. Instead a power receiver. You just switch the toaster and it begins to work! A bulb need not be connected to a wire, it just needs to be fitted properly!

A mobile phone would automatically get charged when you enter a room! You can pick up your television and move to another room whenever you want!

.... a lot of electricians will have to now specialize in 'wireless fittings'. This will call for a situation similar to the one caused by the advent of computers - a lot of people going jobless.

I am waiting for you, oh WiTricity!!


P.S.: This is not a sci-fi story. This new form of electricity is called Witricity and is under research. To read more, visit: http://web.mit.edu/newsoffice/2007/wireless-0607.html

Ward no. 2106 - SERIES 05

Disclaimer - The story is a work of fiction. The names of characters and places are imaginary. So are the incidents described.

The story till now: Kanika's boyfriend, James has arrived. He is interrogated by inspector Khan who tells him that he cannot move Kanika to another hospital. Later, Dr. Damle arrives to meet Parvati Aaji. James decides to speak to Parvati Aaji to get her help.

The clock struck twelve. The door of the ward opened. A nurse arrived with a trolley of food. She served two plates - one to Rahul, one to Parvati Aaji. James called out to her and said, "Can I order lunch for myself too?" She replied, "I am sorry sir. We can't serve food to visitors in the ward." The nurse took the trolley out of the ward.

Parvati aaji looked at James, smiled. James smiled back. James got up and walked towards Parvati aaji, "Hello ma'am."

Parvati aaji joined hands and said, "Namaskar."
"Namaskar.", James imitated her, "Ma'am.. actually, my friend here met with an accident. She would be a bit sceptical about being here. I heard..", he wasn't getting the words right. Parvati aaji guessed it.

"No, but.. why don't you ask the authorities yourself? I'll talk to my son though. Don't worry. Just take care of her..."

This was a rather abruptly-ended conversation. But that was because James had hopes that she would do something for him. That evening, he looked worried as he walked up and down the passage. He was worried about Kanika. He remembered the last time they had been to a restaurant. She had created a ruckus when the forks weren't clean.

He remembered how she panicked when their car broke down a highway. They had slept over at a dhaba - not actually, he had slept. And she was awake all night, scorning and sulking away.

And he remembered the description of that day. He so thanked God that he wasn't there at that time. But when Kanika described it to him on their first date, he was scared.

Kanika would constantly fight with her parents when she stayed with them in Kolkata. She would never get along with them. And one day, for a reason James did not know, Kanika went mad at her parents. She thought her parents did not care for her. There was a long story - but it all ended with Kanika packing her bags one fine day and quitting the house. James had seen her parents' faces full of helplessness when Kanika banged the door of her Mumbai house on them, several months later. And he had heard her parents accusing him for all that happened.

James had always asked Kanika to calm down. James had always wanted her to get back to her parents. But whenever he would talk about them, Kanika would go berserk.

James could not let that happen. It was the tiny little thing called love. Kanika came to his life when James lost both his parents and was broke. She became James' strength. She was his luck. Within a couple of months, James was recruited by an event management company - the one he was currently working for. James just loved her - relentlessly. Even last night, he was sitting by her side trying hard not to cry. He remembered the first time he saw her on this bed here. He felt as if he was struck by a lightening when he saw Kanika in that condition.

James broke down. He held Kanika's hand tightly. He was sobbing like a baby. He had a big battle to fight now. He hoped Kanika would recover, he hoped her parents would forgive him and he hoped things would be ok. An endless volley of thoughts seemed to attack him from all sides.

And just then, he had a hand on his back. It was a warm, comforting feeling. He looked up and saw Parvati Aaji smiling at him.

"Don't worry, she will be fine...", Parvati Aaji said.

Modak - A maharashtrian dish

Made from rice flour, Modaks (Some dictionary translate them as "sweet rice-flour dumplings" - I hate this translation!! The word Modak has its own charm!) are generally eaten with ghee. And there is a unique way of eating them. You open the tip slightly, pour ghee inside. And take a bite. Yummy!

The modaks have resemblance with momos - but they are sweeter and definitely tastier. Modaks are considered the favourite of Lord Ganesh, the Hindu deity of knowledge and happiness.

During Ganesh Chaturthi the festival, we would have a competition in our house - as to who would eat more modaks. As a child, I would be down on two while my mamas went on upto twelve-thirteen. I still remember my grandmother serving us modaks and pushing us to eat one more!!

Making modaks is an art in itself - and one of the essential arts a Maharashtrian to-be bride is supposed to possess!

I raise a toast... naah, a modak to this favourite dish of mine!!

Ward no. 2106 - SERIES 04

Disclaimer - The story is a work of fiction. The names of characters and places are imaginary. So are the incidents described.

The story till now: Dr. Damle tells Parvati Aaji that he is working on her reports and she would have to stay in the hospital for some time. That night, an accident takes place on the flyover and a new patient called Kanika Mukherji is admitted to ward no.2106.

Parvati aaji had fallen asleep late at night. She was rather scared to see the gory sight of the new patient being brought in. Luckily, she managed to get some sleep as late as four o' clock in the morning.

The early rays of sunlight entered the ward from the window. Parvati aaji opened her eyes. She went to the bathroom yawning. There were two toilets and two bathrooms attached to this ward. They would be cleaned by the ward-boy twice a day.

There was a man standing besides the new patient's bed. The man was wearing a t-shirt just his size. He was wearing a cross around his neck and had a stern expression on his face. He was talking to a police inspector. The inspector's badge read - 'Sumer Khan'.

"So, you are her husband?", Sumer Khan eyed the man as he asked him questions in his typical police voice - slightly arrogant, very commanding.

"No. I am her friend.", the man answered.
"Where is her family?"
"They live in Kolkata. Her dad's a lawyer and her mom...."
The inspector snapped him, "Can I have your I-card?"
"Yes sir..", the man searched his pocket and took out an i-card that was issued by an event management company.
The inspector went through the i-card, "Mister James Smith", he read the name aloud and noted down the address in a small diary he was carrying.

"The address we found in her purse is same as your address. How is that?", Sumer Khan inquired.
"Sir... we live together.", James said fumbling.
"Oh...", Sumer Khan gave the unconscious patient a stern glare, "Since when?"
"Uhhmm.. two years."
"Parents have agreed?"
"Sir... how does it matter...", James tried to gather some courage.
"It matters! You can't say. Maybe your wife... oh I'm sorry... your girlfriend was harrowed by her parents and so she wanted to commit suicide... and created a scene there at the flyover. Do you know she dashed into a person who was carrying his two year old baby. The poor baby lost his life..."

James' mouth was wide open. He was sweating as he faced the inspector. Obviously, the poor fellow was not used to it.

"But sir.. I was told that it was some truck that caused the accident. And Kanika's car was hit in the process.", James argued.

"That's what some onlookers have said. Time will say... We have registered a complaint. And I have asked the doctors here to conduct an alcohol test on her. They have taken her blood samples last night itself. Time will say....", Sumer Khan went on noting something in his diary.

"Can we shift her to another hospital?", James asked.
"You cannot. It's a police case. She has to stay in this hospital else she will be charged of going into hiding."

"Ohkay.." James nearly sighed.

"Anyways, I need to go now. I will give you a call to call you to the police station." Sumer Khan shook hands with James and left.

James sat on the stool besides Kanika. He covered his face with his hands. He looked very tired. He was weeping. Rahul, the patient in the hospital, was looking at him with a perplexed expression.

By then, Parvati aaji took a bath, dressed up and came out of the bathroom. She looked to her right. She saw that the lady who was brought in yesterday was still unconscious. She was being given blood through her arm. Parvati aaji noticed a man sitting besides her, crying. She wanted to comfort him but she restrained herself.

Dr. Umesh came in and started talking to James.

Meanwhile, Dr. Damle walked in too. "How are you, mom?"

"You came early today, Shri.", Parvati Aaji smiled.
"Yes, I am going to have a busy day today. So I thought I'd see you early. How are you feeling now?"

While the two were busy talking, James, pointing towards Dr. Damle, asked Dr. Umesh in a low voice, "Who is he?"

Dr. Umesh said, "He's Dr. Shrikant Damle, the owner of our hospital.... She is his mother."

"Oh I see.. ", James said.

After Dr. Umesh left, James was still looking in the direction of Parvati aaji's bed where she was talking to her son. James thought to himself, "Maybe I should try talking to her. Maybe she can help me getting some permissions from Dr. Damle to get Kanika out of here. Or to atleast shift her to a better room. If Kanika gets to know she was in a general ward in some hospital off the highway, she will go mad at me. and herself!"

Ward no. 2106 - SERIES 03

Disclaimer - The story is a work of fiction. The names of characters and places are imaginary. So are the incidents described.

The story till now: Parvati Aaji is busy going through a photo album when Dr. Umesh enters the ward. Dr. Umesh is conducting his daily checkup when Dr. Damle comes in. Dr. Damle sits besides Parvati Aaji and asks her, "How are you, mom?"

"How are you, mom?" Dr. Damle asked.

"Shri beta,I am very fine. You came after almost a fortnight this time." Parvati Aaji had a clear tone of complaint in her voice.

"Actually, mom... I was busy. Please try to understand."

"I understand. But... I get bored here... How long are you going to keep me here?"

"Aai.. when you had to be admitted here, you were in the best room of the hospital. Do you remember? But then you said you wanted people around. So I put you here.. Now it's to your bad luck that there aren't any patients here except a few. But then, you don't have to get bored right. I installed TV in this room just for you..."

"I totally understand. How long would I have to be here..."

"Aai, you are not well. There are some things....", Dr. Damle was short of words, "I am working on your reports. You have to be here for some time now... please. Try to understand."

"What's wrong with me, Shri? Is it cancer?", Parvati Aaji asked. Cancer was probably the only life-threatening disease she could think of. She had lost her husband to it.

"No..", Dr. Damle snapped, "you'll be fine in a couple of months. Don't worry. There's nothing wrong with you."

Parvati Aaji sighed, "you are the doctor. I am just a patient here. And I get bored. Then I grab Dr. Umesh and sing my sad tale to him. He is a sweet fellow, always give me a patient hear."

Dr. Damle smiled. There was something going on his mind though. He got up and said, "I'll go now. I'll come again tommorrow. Take care of yourself, mom..." He touched her feet and left the ward.

That night after dinner, Parvati Aaji slept early. She was very happy to meet her son. She was going to sleep calmly today.

At around four o' clock in the morning, something woke Parvati Aaji up from her sleep. The lights of the room were turned on. She looked back in the direction of the door. She saw doctors moving in and out. They were in quite a hurry.

"What happened...", she muttered.

"Please sleep Aaji, there has been an accident on the flyover today. There was a major pileup of cars. One patient will be admitted here..." a nurse said.

Parvati Aaji could not sleep after that. The words had scared her. She could visualize cars one above the other and the gory scenario.

She looked to her right and saw a group of wardboys bringing in the stretcher. She saw ruffled hair. It was a lady on the stretcher. Actually, a girl, in her late 20s. Parvati Aaji stared at her face. The girl was unconscious and had a stream of blood oozing from her forehead.

"Aaji.. please sleep...", the nurse noticed Parvati Aaji looking at them and knew the sight wasn't pleasant for Parvati aaji. But Parvati aaji wasn't paying attention to her words at all.

She saw the girl being placed on the fourth bed. The girl was wearing a black gown and beautiful pearl earrings. She must be going back home from some party. The makeup on her face was out of shape with the blood and the dust on it.

As bottles of blood and teams of doctors rushed in, Dr. Umesh wrote on the case paper for Bed number 4: "Name: Kanika Mukherji Age: 26years."

Ward no. 2106 - SERIES 02

Disclaimer - The story is a work of fiction. The names of characters and places are imaginary. So are the incidents described.

The story till now: Parvati Aaji is busy going through a photo album when Dr. Umesh enters the ward.

"What happened to you Aaji...", Dr. Umesh asked, playing with his stethoscope.

"Nothing... I was just going through this album...", she said as she walked back to her bed. She opened the drawer of the small cabinet besides her bed and kept the album inside.

"It gets boring at times Umesh... ", Parvati aaji (Aaji is the Marathi word for grandmother) said as she sat on her bed.

"Hmm, I understand. But you need to get well before you can go home, right.."

"Yes, but it's been four months now. I was in the private ward back then. All alone in an A/C room. Tell you what Umesh, I don't need an A/C or a TV. I need people to talk to. That's why I told my son and got myself shifted to this room. Atleast there are some patients around here. There is some interaction..."

"Yes, Dr. Damle had told me...", Dr. Umesh said, "Anyways, let me do the daily checkup."

Dr. Umesh checked her pulse rate and the trivial details. He would do it everyday and always wondered. Why was she here? To him, she was hale and hearty. He thought, perhaps, Dr. Damle had diagnosed something.

He then got up and moved to the adjacent bed. A twenty year old Rahul was reading a magazine on Neural Networks. Dr. Umesh tapped his fractured leg gently and said, "How are you, Rahul?"

Rahul looked at him. And smiled. This was what Dr. Umesh could do very well - bring a smile to a person's face. "I'm fine doctor. I'll be given a discharge tommorrow. So finally, happy!"

Dr. Umesh said, "Oh, that's so good!"

Just then a nurse entered the ward and told Dr. Umesh, "Doctor, Dr. Damle is coming here."

Dr. Umesh said, "Oh, I see..". He looked back at Parvati Aaji and said, "Aaji.. Dr. Damle is coming here to meet you."

Parvati Aaji's face glowed now. She stretched out her legs and rested against the pillow.

Dr. Damle entered the ward. He was a tall man with green eyes and a well-trimmed goatee. He was wearing glasses that rested against the lower half of his nose. He had this stern look on his face always. When Dr. Damle would walk down the stairs of the hospital, people would go silent. That was the kind of aura he had.

Dr. Damle entered the ward. He said something to Dr. Umesh who left the ward immediately.

Dr. Damle came and sat besides Parvati Aaji. And said, "How are you now, mom?"

Faces under faces

I see you smiling. With the expression on your face that welcomes me. I go and shake hands with you. Your smile grows.

"Aadi... looking cute today!", a chick says. I smile and like any other human being, I am happy. But then exactly three and half minutes (* Under testing conditions; results may vary.) later, she would ask you for a favour.

There are faces hidden under faces. There are intentions embedded into these hidden faces. A smiling face is not often all about it. Layers underneath the one on the surface lies a face that is way different from the one above.

I often see this face under the faces. But I am not scared. That's because as I remove, in my mind, one face off you, I realise that there is no face left at all. We all are, in our purest forms, the energetic and pure soul at the end. We all are objects of this pure form of energy beneath all the faces we carry.

Why do people put on so many faces on the top of the real self that the real person gets lost resultantly?

Why do we forget that the soul that resides within all of us has no face at all? The fakeness and pretence are attributes of the very body we are into.

Ward no. 2106 - SERIES 01

Disclaimer - The story is a work of fiction. The names of characters and places are imaginary. So are the incidents described.

It was a ward in a magnificient 'K K Damle hospital' located off the highway. The owner of the hospital Dr. Shrikant Damle had set up the hospital in his father's name. He was one of the most reputed doctors of the city with many acclaims to his name.

The door read ' Ward no. 2106'. The digit two was for the fact that the ward was on the second floor. 'One' meant it was for assorted patients and 'six', was the room number.

There were six beds in the ward. And a large window that made the room spacious and airy. The window had a platform - one could easily sit there. A frail figure sat at the window.

Her silver hair shone in the sunlight. Her green eyes were transfixed at some point outside the window. Her wrinkled face and hands were snow-white despite the age. Draped in a white sari, she sat at the window with a photo album in her hand.

She was in the room but she was not. She had been transported to a different period in time. She remembered her husband - a brave young man who had set up his business in the British era in a small village of Maharashtra. She remembered his ever-glowing face which had turned pale when the business went to the dogs. She remembered the sleepless nights her husband had. She remembered her children sleeping on her lap while she sang them lullabies - trying to forget the financial crisis they were going through.

She remembered her son's graduation day. Her husband's eyes were filled with pride that day. She remembered her husband's last ailment. She remembered him holding her hand for the last time. She remembered the helplessness in his eyes as he succumbed to a life-threatening disease.

A tear rolled down her wrinkled cheek and fell on the granite platform she was sitting on. The tear glittered on the brown surface.

She went back to the album she had in her hand. It was these pictures that had taken her back in time. She turned the pages and relived every moment that was captured in them. As her wrinkled fingers turned the pages of the album, tears continued to fall on them once in a while.

"Aaji...", somebody called out to her. She got up and looked back. It was Dr. Umesh with his infectious smile. He had a face that was almost carved out. He was wearing a doctor's gown and had a stethoscope around his neck.

And Dr. Umesh successfully transferred the smile to Parvati Aaji's face too. The wrinkles on her face got denser as the angelic face broke into a pristine smile...

In the neighbourhood - SERIES 05

Sukanya froze as she heard her daughter Anushka talking.

"I love you Rajas........ please try to understand."
She would keep the phone down and dial again to say the same thing. The person on the other side was obviously abruptly disconnecting the call.

Sukanya took a step ahead. But kept herself from going there. She went back to the kitchen. Stared out of her window. She could see some scooters lined up. A policeman strolled through them. She couldn't see anything though. She was out of her mind.

Extremely worried about her daughter, she resolved to go back there. She walked steadily towards the couch where Anushka sat with her head down.

Sukanya was now standing opposite Anushka. Anushka looked at her, she was terrible scared. She hurried to keep the phone down. "Anu..", was all Sukanya could say.

Anushka hugged Sukanyaa and cried. "Aai.... I love... I don't know... look at him.. don't scold me please....aai.. don't tell... worthless.. feeling bad..", Anushka could hardly complete any sentence.

Sukanyaa covered her mouth and was crying relentlessly as her daughter sobbed around her waist. Sukanyaa looked at her and said, "Anushka... it will all be fine for you. I don't want to hear a word about it right now. You go to sleep right now, we'll talk about it tommorrow."

And Anushka slept on the sofa. With her head on her mother's lap. And her mother's hand on her forehead. This was the world's most comforting position Anushka could be in. Few minutes later, Terry came and slept in Anushka's arms. The three were soulmates indeed.

Sukanya, though, was stark awake. Now that she knew, she was worried.

The next morning, Girish woke up as always. He didn't find Sukanya besides him. He thought she must be in the bathroom. He yawned as he came to the drawing room only to find his daughter cuddled up on her mother's lap.

He saw Sukanya awake.

"Sukanya... what's wrong? Did she tell you..."

Sukanya looked at him, she thought her eyelids had gone heavy.


"Uhmm.. Girish.. wait.. I'll make your breakfast.."

She got up, carefully keeping Anushka's head over a pillow.

A couple of minutes later, Girish was inside the kitchen with Sukanya.
"Oh, you heard all that", Girish asked.
"Yes..."
"I am definitely going to scold her. See, there are some things, which cannot be explained to children. They need to be sent across directly."
"Girish.. is she a child now?"
"She is behaving like one..."
"Girish.. this should not be a problem for her academics."
"Sukanya.. she is my daughter too.. I care for her. We need to take steps immediately. I am coming home early today.. and we'll talk to her about it."

"Ok..."

The day continued as always. Shyaam was going to have a hectic day today. He had to go to school, followed by tuitions and then one of the test series that he had taken admission to.

Sukanya packed three tiffins for him as he rushed.

Sukanya went back to her room cleaning and dusting the photo frames. She came across an old picture - the day of her engagement. She was wearing a beautiful pink sari and a beautiful gold necklace which her grandmother had given her. She looked at herself. Anushka looked so much like her very own self.

And she remembered the face. The face of a bright young man. Fair, tall and intelligent. She had never spoken to him. They were just classmates back then. And she remembered that evening. When she decided she would stop thinking about him.

She never did. There were no regrets at all. She loved Girish - he was the ideal man she could have ever found.

But yes, Sukanya remembered that she had made a compromise. A compromise she was strongly going to stick to.

A compromise that she knew her daughter would have to, as well...

All Sukanya wondered was how she was going to help her daughter heal her broken heart. The way she herself had, long back.

Happy birthday all of you!

I wish all the Indians a very happy Birthday!! A very happy Republic day!!

Republic day is the anniversary of our rights in the true sense. And it is this that is the true spirit of freedom.

Let us all be proud of this freedom that makes us what we are!

"Koi naam se pehchaana nahi jaayega"

The advertisement of a cellular operator features Abhishek Bachhan as the head of a village. He, at once, declares that nobody would be recognized by their name. Instead the telephone numbers will be used for identification.

And so the entrance to a wedding says "98235 weds 98645", the slogans at an election procession go "Vote for 9875".

The advertisement is appealing for the fact that it makes target the intrinsic casteism that exists in India. Currently, it's not about the 'high-caste' or the 'low-caste'. It's all the same. As of now, it is about 'my-caste' (which rhymes with 'high-caste') and 'not-my-caste'.

The advertisement is surely intelligently crafted!


*And Aaditya starts shaking his leg - the way Abhishek Bachhan does at the the end of this advertisement!* Remember the day you were watching this advertisement with your family. I am sure fifty percent of the people in the room started shaking their leg that way at the end of the advertisement...

Yes!

Note: This may be considered a sequel to an earlier blogpost 'No!' The two, however, are independent of each other.

"Yes!" as an exclamation is a sign of confidence, of positivity. "Yes, I can do it!", "Yes, I have done it!" - the expression helps at different points of success.

Psychiatrists suggest a very simple exercise. Stand in front of the mirror, look into your eyes and say, "Yes! I will do it!" Trust me, your face shines with enthusiasm!

One remembers how we go "Yessss!" when something becomes successful. Happier you are, stronger is the hiss in the ''yeSSSS". "YESSS" has a striking resemblance with the word for success in Hindi/Marathi - "Yash".

"Yes!" is not just a proclamation of success - but it also paves path towards it. And as all of us agree, the first step to success is believing in it.

"Yes." is when you agree. Saying yes to your inner questions is one thing. Saying yes to others' questions is another. When you say yes to someone, it becomes one's responsibility. How seriously you say 'yes' is a metric for one's commitment. When you say ''yes, I will do it for you", one better stick to it!

Lastly "Yes?" is a sign of openness. A sign of being receptive to question and being willing to answer.

Yes, in its three forms that I mentioned here - "Yes!", "Yes." and "Yes?" is certainly a weapon. A mode that will bridge the distance between two people.

Speaking the truth

Fear is the worst human disease. And the root of fear often lies in depletion of truth. Where the salinity to the soil of the mind increases, the mind ceases to be fertile. Truth is the tonic to the mind.

Speaking the truth enables you to face the situation as it is. But is it always that?

My best friend is dressed in a weird shirt. And he looks really bad in it. Should I speak the truth?

My best friend's boyfriend has been bitching about her. Should I speak the truth?

The dilemma arises here when the emotions creep in. Because emotions are the anesthetic that enter the mind through the soil. And blind it from truth.

And one prefers to take an anesthetic over a tonic.

Emotions numb us.

And truth takes the backseat.

As the sun sets

As the sun sets, it fills the sea water with the heat it carried throughout the day. And the sea water quietly absorbs the heat. You must see the way the sea water trembles as sun sets. It is almost like the union of two lovers.


As the sun sets, I see another day gone by. The number of days to achieve the sought-for has gone down by one..

As the sun sets, I look at my reflection in the glass of the computer monitor. And in the dark image, I see eyes that call out to me. That want me to do something for them.

As the sun sets, I remember the golden rays that were cast on my eyes. The eyes that once glittered with hope, dreams and positivity...

Juhu beach at 11:30pm

The sky is pitch black. The stars shine like a thousand pearls on the sea floor. The waves are still lashing against the shore. They look grand now. The sound echoes in your eyes as you stand under the stars. You turn to your left and then to your right, all you see is the sea. In its same form.

Due to the dark of the night, it just looks more magnanimous. Your feet are wet. You have left behind marks in the sand.

Day or night, the sea continues to rumble and sound. The waves come and go.

I still remember gazing at the sun just above the horizon, its reflection cast in the water.

One feels so small before Nature when one stands there. Gazing at the water that lashes against your feet and goes back. Again and again...

Fire

It was raining. The fireplace was burning as ever. But today, the fire was lit somewhere else too.

She looked at him. There was something that drew towards her. The eyes longed for something. He went closer. Her eyelids were trembling. Her lips were shaking.

He held her hand. She closed her eyes partially. He spread his arms around her. She rested her head on his chest.

She then looked into his eyes. He brought her closer and kissed her eyes.

The fire in the hearts was growing faster than the one in the fireplace...

A City of people

The scene belongs to a railway station at eight o' clock on a Monday morning. People move like droplets of water on a wave.

In limitless colours and shapes, people move. Someone has just worn his favourite shirt. Someone is adjusting her hair. There are bags of different sizes - leather bags, sleek pink bags with handles, bags with broken hooks, bags with open zips, bags full of goods, school bags. They dash against one another as the person makes way through the crowd.

There is an old couple making way slowly through this crowd. A young boy and a girl are standing in a corner looking into each others' eyes. A shabbily dressed ten year-old girl is selling garlands. There are ticket checkers eyeing everyone passing them and looking for prospective law-breakers. A newspaper vendor is at his swift best as he collects coins, returns change and hands them the newspapers. There are eunuchs moving around in groups. There are dabbewallas balancing their tiffin boxes on their head.

Somewhere, a lady stands grasping her daughter's hand. Somewhere, an executive talks to his colleague on the telephone.

It's not just people but there is a wide range of emotions on display. The lovers looking into each others' eyes, a confused person tries to figure out which train goes to Dadar, a person hurriedly making way, someone is screaming at someone who stepped on his foot, a ten year-old storybook seller calling out in his squeaky and worn-out voice.

It is a city of people indeed. They fill up the local trains. Die in bomb-blasts. Get stuck at places during monsoons. Flock when the trains get delayed.

It is a city of people. The people that flow out of a train at night. The people that hurry towards the overhead bridge.

It is a city of filled up garbage bins. Of buzzing mornings. Of local trains that leave the stations empty at night. Only to be full the next day...

Theories of the World

There are so many theories floating around us. One of them says aliens created humans - and the entity God is actually an extra-terrestrial. Another says the world is going to come to an end on the thirtieth day of January.

The now-fact 'The earth is round' was a theory once. The fact at that time was that the earth is flat.

The theories become facts as time passes and new theories come in. The fact is, 'facts' aren't facts after all. They are just beliefs of humans.

The humans that love to believe they are intelligent. That's another belief on their part.

It's these beliefs that keep changing. And that makes the humans believe that they are growing intelligent.

What is the ultimate fact then? Or is there any fact at all?

In the Neighbourhood - SERIES 04

"Lock the door please.."
Shyaam latched the door.

Anushka started.
"Jojo... I am messed up.."
"What are you saying Tai.."
"I mean it. ... I did such a stupid mistake Jojo!"
"What happened Taai.. tell me" Shyaam sat besides her and held her hand.
"Jojo.. you know Rajas right.." Anushka said, still weeping, "I like him.. I like him so much. I love him..."
"Taai..."

"Yes Jojo.. don't tell this to Aai-baba please. I told him I liked him. And he said he didn't. Jojo, I was too broke.. so now.."

"Now what.."
"Now he doesn't want to talk to me..."
"Ohh..."
"Shyaamu.... Jojo.. what do I do?" Anushka began to weep loudly.
"Taai.. you can't do anything about it naa.. I think you should aai-baba"

"No Jojo.. some things should stay between you and me.. promise me that you'll not tell them.."
"I won't.. don't worry..."

There was a knock on the door. "Anu!! I have brought your dinner plate. Open the door..."

Anushka hurriedly wiped her tears with the bedsheet while Shyaam opened the door. Sukanya came in. She could notice Anushka's red eyes. But pretended not to.

"Here you go... Jojo, you want me to get your plate here? Do you want to give taai company?"

"Uhmm.. ok aai.."

Sukanyaa went back to the kitchen. Shyaam and Anushka were having their dinner in their room.

Meanwhile Girish was back from his walk. He was at the dining table with Sukanya. The two were speaking in hushed voices - "Did she tell you anything?", Girish asked.

"No, but I guess she has, to Jojo."

"You want me to ask him?"

"Yes, please do.. but not now. Let them talk for a while..."

"Sukanyaa.. I hope she is not having a boyfriend or something!"

"Girish... since when did you start thinking like this.. we met in college too.."
"Sukanyaa.. it's not that! But she's too young for all this.. She's just in the second year of college.. And in college, we were friends. Remember that, don't you.."
"I remember Girish.. all I want to say is, we should not take hasty steps."

"We won't. Don't worry..." Girish said as he picked up his plate and kept it in the sink. He then went to the basin and washed his hands.

Half an hour later, Sukanyaa was lying on her bed. With her eyes gazing at the lamp which was still not put off.

She was getting worried. She was just not able to sleep. She got up and walked to the kitchen. Drank a glass of water. She hoped she would feel better.

She was walking towards her bedroom again. She saw a figure sitting on the sofa. The lights of the drawing room were put off. She went closer.

The figure seemed to be using the phone. Sukanya looked closer. It was Anushka...

She was talking to someone on the phone. With her head bent down.

Sukanya was shocked. She was standing behind the door for the next thirty minutes.

And Anushka went talking... Sukanya had tears as she started listening to what Anushka was saying...

Metaphor 03

You are asked to lie down on a raft with your stomach on the surface. You hold the handle, your legs are off the ground. You hear the button being pressed.

And the raft takes off. Going up and down, the water on the tracks splashing against your body. You think you can see what's next, but suddenly the raft takes a left and you see a great dip!

A watercoaster is an amazing experience, you experience the so-called adrenaline rush like never before. And when the ride's over, you wish you had another go at it.

Life comes with its share of ups and downs too. Just that we don't look at it as a bumpy ride that we must enjoy - but as a tiresome journey.

... and then, one day we wish we had another go at it.

End of journals and assignments - PART 02

It is a nice feeling that approximately thirteen weeks from now, engineering would end. It would be the end of journals and assignments.

I remember our EDC teacher dictating the assignment questions in the class - after every question, the entire class would go "nooooo'' for they did not want any more questions. And the teacher was really considerate in that respect. Her assignments were always apt and reasonably small. But even then, there were students who would submit their assignments on the last day. No, not the last day of the duration assigned for completion, but the last day of the semester.

It is amusing the way many of my classmates and friends behaved. They would be the kings of their world throughout the semester, laugh it out when a teacher said the deadline of an assignment was due and three days before the end of the semester, would complete the entire journal.

And there were classmates who loved taking printouts more than flirting with girls! They would butter, batter and get bitter with the person taking printouts and get one for themselves. Somehow, they would get hold of a last year's journal and complete all the ten experiments within two days - seven weeks before the semester end.

The point is, everyone in my class looked at 'assignments and journals' from a different perspective. Some of them thought it was a burden, some said they would easily manage - while some completed it diligently. Whatever the case be, all of us have completed almost forty journals excluding the final semester journals!!

I have seen people fighting for printer, stationery and assignments. Some girls behave like television vamps to get hold of the original copy of the assignments. And it's rather fun!

The bottomline is, engineering teaches its disciples the power of endurance. You learn to endure and take pressure - pressure of deadlines, deadlines and more deadlines. And this is a skill very important in itself!

dreary desert

I see a desert that stretches right upto the horizon. And I see ripples on the surface of the sand. The dunes taking multiple forms. The terrain around me changing rapidly.

I am a lonesome traveller. My feet are sinking into the sand. But I have to keep walking. The breeze is hitting me across the face. The sun pierces through my eyes.

And I collapse. My face covered with sand.

The dunes keep changing their shapes. The wind continues to blow as hard as ever.

Ward No. 2106

A girl in her late 20s leaves her parents and settles down in the big bad city. And one day she meets with an accident...

A guy who has lost his memory in an accident. He does not remember anything at all...

An old woman who is wondering why she has been admitted to the hospital...

A dashing doctor with a secret...

The paths of these four different individuals cross. At a place that cuts them off from the world. The ward no. 2106...

Watch this space for the series!

Shadows

A shadow sticks by you throughout. Wherever you go, whatever you do, the shadow follows you. That's when you begin to believe that the shadow will be with you always.

And then, when it gets dark, the shadow disappears...

The people we call friends disappear in similar way when situations get dark and gloomy...

No!

We all are so consumed by the negativities within us. What they transform into is wickedness and bitterness for others. What they need to become is the vital skill most of us do not possess - the art of saying No!

We say "Oh no!" very frequently, but a sentence smaller than that is something we are often not able to say - "No!"

"Oh No!" stands for surprise, shock, fear, frustration. "No!" stands for refutation. Being able to stick to what one wants to do.

"Aadi.... I know you are studying. But can you join me for a movie?" "uhmmm..."
"Aadi.. wanna try some weed?" "uhmm...."
"Aadi... let's make chits and take them to the exam hall.." "uhmmm..."
"Aadi... do this for me na! PLEASE... you are my friend na.." "uhmmm..."

It's not about being rude. Or not about not being helpful. It's about being able to decide for oneself what one wants to do and what one does not. (I clearly avoid using the terms 'right' and 'wrong' here. They are too relative.)

Having said that, saying No is among the many skills we are born with. Yes, a baby does seem to be more skilled than an adult. (its instincts are certainly stronger.) When it does not like the baby food you are trying to feed it, it will plainly spit it out. And 'saying no' is among the many skills we loose in the world that demands so much out of us.

It is like a cycle. I feel bad - somebody asks me to do something I don't want to - I can't say no - And since I am doing something I don't like, I feel worse. And there crumbles the art of saying no. And that makes us what people to call 'vulnerable'.

I repeat, I am not giving lessons of how to be rude to people. (In fact, I am not giving lessons at all!) But yes, I think all of us need to know the line that separates the acceptable and the unacceptable. It's me who will decide how many times I'll let a guy step on my foot in a crowded train. It's this strong-willed decisiveness that the art I am talking about covers.

The first step to removing a problem is locating its cause. So, inability to say No probably comes from one's fear, indecisiveness or plainly confusion.

The second step is to work towards uprooting the cause.

Next time you can't say no, try this -

1. Think of an ugly caterpillar drenched in gooey mud. It is crawling up your knees. Will you still have the guts to let it stay there and continue?

2. For the ones who got scared of the caterpillar and have allowed to crawl upwards (i.e. still couldn't say No) , here's point two.
Make a list of the things you don't want to do. Often, this list is much longer than what you want to do. Now, prioritize the heads. And make up your mind to stick to the top fifty percent. (Yes! The lower fifty percent would be the ones due to fear.)


The Art of saying No is like being in love. All it needs is a strong mind and an ability to be able to draw a line. The lack of these are often responsible for adversely affecting the two.



P.S. I think this was a good post. But if you think it wasn't, I think you have all the right to say 'NO'!

The Village and the wall

Somewhere in the corner of the world, there was a village. I wouldn't name it - because I don't know its name myself. The population of the village was around fifty people.

There was a part of the village dedicated to the fields. There were schools that taught children farming techniques. People cultivated, cooked and ate. It was a happy situation indeed until one day.

A group of kids were playing - they were chasing each other when one of them went on running for quite a distance uphill. The boy's face froze as he saw an enormous shadow falling on him. The shadow was that of a wall. There was a wall almost thirty times his height. He looked around and his jaws dropped. The entire village was surrounded by that wall - and it was that high throughout.

The news spread like wildfire. Everyone in the village went to that spot and saw the wall which had cut off the entire village. The villagers, till now, thought they were the only humans around. Now curiosity had found way in their brains.

There were vociferous discussions over what could exist on the other side of the wall. Some propagated, more humans. Some said, God. Some said there was nothing - they were the only creatures alive.

And one day, they decided to break the wall down. Everyone in the village participated - it was no easy task! They decided to bore a hole in the wall. To be faster, the work was started at three places on the wall.

Several months later, almost at the same time, the wall had three holes at three places.

And wild animals had begun to intrude.

There was a forest all around the village. And the wild animals were more than hungry...


MORAL: If you do not know something, it is quite possible that it's for your own good. Do not try to know something that you perhaps don't need to know. And perhaps the truth would be fierce enough to harm you.

End of journals and assignments - PART 01

Statutory warning: What I am about to write, may bore you to death. It is a sheer case of blowing things out of proportion. But when there's lot of air in your lungs, you don't mind doing that! This blogpost is a sheer case of too-much-time-on-hand-and-not-much-to-do.


The last engineering semester commenced today. Four last subjects, four last journals, eight last assignments (assuming two assignments per subject) - and end of engineering at last! But yes lastly, it is these memories that are going last us a lifetime!

A famous maxim says 'the grass is green on the other side'. If people from both the sides are saying it, it should mean that 'the grass is not green at all.' And we always miss the things we don't possess. We hate the heat during the summer and curse the cold when the winter sets in.

And now that I am in the last semester, I see the semesters that have gone by. I see what they have given me. And I see that there's lot of it!

I remember the first day - how I was horrified to see the shady workshop building. And how I was scared as I looked around. I would peep inside the workshop halls with the expression of about-to-be-slaughtered goat!

And something that occupied my thoughts was undoubtedly Mechanics. It looked worse than Anil Kapoor without his shirt! Luckily - yes, luckily, I managed to scrape through.

What if I would have got a KT then? Things would have been very different, I think. Mechanics is the vital weapon engineering uses to cut down the overconfidence students have developed. But sadly, it often pushes people into under-confidence - and makes things very difficult for them. That's exactly why I compare Mechanics to Death. That's because a poem by J. Shirley is titled 'Death - the leveller'!

Mechanics levels - the overconfident, the snobs and the average second-benchers!

Aah.. I need a break now. Mechanics is a difficult subject. And talking about Mechanics is an extremely difficult thing to do!

Frozen moments

There are moments that fizz. And there are moments that freeze.

The people, the expression in the eyes, the postures - these moments freeze into glistening images on paper. The friend hugging you, the trophy held high up in the air, your balloon-like face when you are putting off the candles on your tenth birthday cake - moments then take a new form. The form that we call, photographs.

Twenty years later, you go through them. The photographs melt back into the moments and take you to a different period in time. You can relish the same moments, relive them whenever you want!

Frozen food that needs to be defrosted and used is a new concept.

Frozen moments have been here for a longer time...

and while relationships and people don't last us a lifetime, it's these photographs, these frozen moments that do!

In the Neighbourhood - SERIES 03

"Hi Rajas", she blurted out. And her hand rose, her fingers trembling. She could hardly wave her hand.

"Hi Karan.. long time man, where have you been" Rajas walked past her and hugged a classmate who was standing right behind her. Anushka thought he was smiling at her - little did she know that Rajas was still upset.

"Rajas..." Anushka tried to grab his attention.

"Anushka, I have told you so many times not to speak to me!" Rajas said, without even looking at her.

"Rajas, you are getting me wrong!! Please give me a chance of explain!"
"Enough has been said, Anushka. I don't want to discuss it."
"Rajas.."
"Stop it!" Rajas banged the bench.

The professor entered the room and gave Anushka a surprised glare. She was rather embarassed and occupied the third bench - away from Rajas.

"What's wrong between you guys?", Jatin who was sitting besides Anushka said raising his eyebrows.
"Nothing, the same old thing." Anushka hushed.
"He hasn't forgiven you yet?"
"He hasn't."
"Why! It was such a childish thing after all. And you guys have been friends for long right?"

"Yes! Third bench! Please do not speak while I am speaking!!" the professor scolded the two of them.

The lecture continued - Anushka was back in her books.

That evening, Anushka returned home. She wasn't normal at all. Sukanya had sensed it. She hadnt rung the bell more than four times. Her socks weren't thrown around the hall. She went straight to her room. The room that she shared with her brother, Jojo.

Sukanya went to Anushka's room and saw her sleeping. She was surprised - Anushka never slept at this time of the day. Sukanya began to get worried. She saw an element of herself in her daughter. And today, she saw her daughter depressed.

"What happened to you?" Girish asked Sukanya as he entered.
"Nothing much. How was office?"
"Just as usual. The manager irritated me as always... That guy loves only the people who can butter him up!"

"Oh.. from your comments, I can make out that it was a usual day indeed." Sukanya giggled.
"Sukanya.. you and your jokes!" Girish laughed as he made way to the basin.

He turned the tap and splashed cold water on his face. Then he took a napkin and wiped his face clean. Then the hands. He opened the cupboard and selected the clothes he wanted to change into.

Ten minutes later he was at the dining table asking Sukanya, "What could be wrong with her? Was she like this even after coming from college?"

"Ya, she was silent throughout - didn't tell me how crowded the trains were. Didn't sulk. She was in a terrible mood."

"Oh.. want me to ask her?"

"Should we?"

"Let's ask her after she wakes up." Girish said and got up from the dining table.

"I am taking Terry for a walk. You coming along?"

"Ya sure. Give me five minutes", Sukanya hurried to get ready.

As she dressed up in a maroon salwar kameez and came out of her bedroom, she inadvertently peeped into Anushka's.
"I know you are worried. We'll ask her, don't worry!"

"Should we be leaving her alone at home like this? What if she is not feeling well?" Sukanya said as she entered Anushka's room.

Sukanya touched Anushka's forehead to check for fever. Anushka moved a little. Thankfully, there wasn't any. "Sukanya, I think you are worrying too much..."

"Girish, you go ahead. I'll wait. I'll serve her dinner as soon as she gets up. I'll make her favourite bhaji today!"

"Hmm.. alright! I'll be back in an hour! Take care of her. and take care of yourself."

Sukanya was in the kitchen when the doorbell rang again. It was Shyaam back from his tuitions.

"Hi aai.. how was your day?"
"Good Jojo, how was yours?"
"Ya good."

As Shyaam walked towards his room, he saw Anushka sleeping. "Why is Taai sleeping???"

"Sshh... don't shout! You'll wake her up!"
"But mom! It's 8 o' clock! When has she slept at eight o' clock in the night?"

"Uhmm.. I know! Maybe she had a tiring day! Ok anyways, you wash your hands, clean up and come. Will you have dinner now or will you wait for baba?"

"I'll wait. It's okay. I'll watch Tom and Jerry till then."

"Ok." Sukanya said as she got back to her cooking.

Shyaam came out of the bathroom, clean and tidy. He got dressed in blue shorts and a white tshirt. He was combing his hair when he heard Anushka's voice.

"Jojo..." Shyaam could make out from her voice that Anushka had been crying for a long time.

"Yes taai.." Shyaam went to her and sat besides her.

"Jojo.. if I tell you a secret, will you promise you'll not tell Mom?"

Shyaam was visibly scared now...

Makeovers

Frankly speaking, I heard the word 'makeover' for the first time when Jassi of 'Jassi jaisi koi nahin' was going to have one. Before that, if I changed my hairstyle, it would be just 'change'. If my mom wore a tshirt and jeans while we were in Goa, it would be just 'something different'.

The word 'makeover' assumed importance when Jassi got rid of her glasses and saggy clothes. Or is it just that? When I say I want a makeover, will I just get it when I start wearing 'modern' clothes? (read 'revealing'/'body-hugging')

The issue with a makeover lies in the reason itself. Who do I want a makeover for? And the point is, we often want to change for the people we hate! In the pursuit of proving ourselves, we forget the people who care!

I want to prove a point to a person I hate, I am ready for a change, a 'makeover' - so I want to look good, be smart, throw attitude, etc.

But when my loved one- mom, dad, brother, friend, partner wants me to make an adjustment, we say "It's not me! I cannot change for you! Love me the way I am!"

It's amusing to see that the people who we hate assume greater importance than the ones we love...

...and we wish to have a makeover for the people we hate, than for the people we love!

the diary

I wanted to share some pages from an old diary that I used to write way back in school. I went through almost the entire diary. And then, you laugh at yourself with the did-I-even-write-that expression!! And this can exceed to the extent of being highly embarassing!

That's exactly why I don't write a diary any more!! My blog is the dear one!

In memory of 286

I fondly remember the 286 computer we had way back in 1996. I did not know then that 286 meant 80286 but would proudly say, "We have a 286!" to anyone who asked me what computer we had.

Those were the times when the floppy drive was huge - the floppies needed to be kept carefully in a plastic case. When having 'Prince of Persia' on the computer was a prestige issue.

And 'delete *.*' seemed like the world's most powerful thing. And the only song I had on my computer was a small midi file of the old song 'Roop tera mastana'.

In loving memory of this 286 that rests in peace in an old cupboard now. Amen!

Jodha's mansion, Dharavi and railway bridges

How are they related? No, they aren't as such. Or are they?

A couple of years back, a railway overhead bridge which was under construction collapsed near Dombivli. It brought down the Central Railway traffic for nearly four hours.

Dharavi is the world's largest slum - many of these are built with sheets of steel. Similar to the makeshift homes. Very strong and sturdy - the agents will tell you.

Bollywood's magnum opus 'Jodha-Akbar' boasts of being the costliest movie in terms of sets. The Jodha's mansion for the film is an 'earthquake-proof' construction. The cost of the mansion constructed for a period of a couple of months runs into crores.

That's Mumbai meri jaan! Fraught with ironies like these!

In the Neighbourhood - SERIES 02

Shyaam walked to the bus stop. An autorickshaw would wait for him there. That one had not come yet. He waited.

Shyaam was a tenth standard student. Puberty made its presence felt with strands of hair between his lips and nose. He was standing at the bus stop with his shoulders bearing the weight of his blue-coloured bag. It was an almost old bag - the water bottle peeped out of the small opening the bag had.

Shyaam was looking around. A soft drink truck passed by. It was followed by many autorickshaws trying to make way through the mess. It was certainly a busy road. And Shyaam loved to watch the vehicles making their way through each other. He wondered why things would get so messy - when they could've been so easy.

Shyaam felt a lot for the traffic congestion problem. That's because he had to take an autorickshaw every day. And the autorickshaw would get stuck in a traffic jam and it would take him twenty five minutes - he could cover that distance in ten by foot.

The autorickshaw that he had hired would be paid on a monthly basis. His mother made sure that Shyaam, Jojo as she called her fondly, would not have trouble getting to his school.

But today, it seemed like it would get really late. Shyaam opened his book - a neat notebook in a brown-paper cover and began to read the first page. 'History Chapter 1 - First World War'. He had gone past the fourth question that he heard the autorickshaw honk.

He saw Sawantkaka - the autorickshaw driver who would drive him to and back from school.

"I am sorry Shyaam, I was late!", Sawantkaka apologized.

"No that's ok Kaka.. let's go fast! I hope the traffic is low today!"

"Don't worry - we'll reach on time!... When are your prelim exams?" Sawantkaka always liked to keep himself updated about Shyaam's activities.

"Class prelims starting from next week, school prelims in February!"
"Good! I hope you are studying well... you must get very good marks ok!"
"Yes Kaka..."

The autorickshaw reached Shyaam's school. It was a convent school with a Victorianesque architecture. Shyaam hurried out of the autorickshaw.

"Bye!" Sawantkaka shouted.

Shyaam just waved back in return.

"I'll be here at 5:30 sharp. Don't leave till I come!"

"Yes kaka.." Shyaam said, nodding his head.

Sawantkaka vroomed his vehicle out of there.

Meanwhile, Anushka had reached her college in Andheri. She was an Arts student at one of the topmost colleges of Mumbai. And she was proud of it. Despite the extremely extra-ordinary score she had, Anushka had opted for Arts. That was something which had her parents facing the music from a lot of relatives - "You are spoiling the child's career", "She can't think, but atleast you can!" Anushka had always wanted to prove them wrong.

And she had been doing it - she was the Arts stream topper of her college in the twelfth standard. She was very happy that she was an object of pride for her parents.

Anushka entered her college. "Anu....", Sonya came and hugged her. Sonya lived in a plush apartment in Bandra - and though her birth certificate said 'Sonia', she preferred calling herself 'Sonya'! It was 'hep' and happening you see!

"Hi Sonya.. how are you..."
"I'm good babes.. nice top haan.. what brand?"
"Shoppers stop"
"Aah.. you get that in your Dadar right?"
"Hullo.. what's 'your dadar'.."
"Hehe... I meant Dadar..."
"I know what you meant, Sonya! Anyways, I am getting late for the lecture. Aren't you coming?"

"Oh no, Rocky is coming in some time!" Rocky - Anushka remembered - was Sonya's boyfriend. And Anushka had lost count of the number of boyfriend's Sonya had had in the last one year. Anushka never liked this guy - burly biceps, designer clothes, posh vehicles - and a dead expression on the face. That was the only reason Anushka thanked God she wasn't Sonya.

But for many other reasons, she wanted to be Sonya. They were pals - but Anushka was in awe of Sonya. Sonya got to dress up in the best of the lot, drove to college and on way back, Sonya's parents were settled abroad. And Sonya had four servants to look after her - right from waking her up to putting her to bed. Anushka always wished she were born as Sonya...

Anushka walked towards the classroom. She met few other classmates and exchanged the typical 'hi's..

Anushka entered the classroom. She saw him on the second bench. He was wearing a cream coloured body-hugging t-shirt today. He wore a flashy wrist-watch and an equally flashy wristband. He looked at her. Smiled.

Her face shone into a smile.

"Hi Rajas..", she blurted out.

In the Neighbourhood - SERIES 01

This is a story of a family who lives just in our neighbourhood. 'Our' stands for a generalization. We are talking about a typical family from Mumbai - It is rather important to mention which part of Mumbai. Because within Mumbai, there is a lot of classification. People look at you in different ways depending on which part of Mumbai you are from - Kalyan, Thane, Ghatkopar, Carter Road or Vile Parle. This one is a typical Maharashtrian family - the Guptes.

Girish Gupte is the patriarch - a banker by profession who takes a train daily from Dadar to Churchgate. A twenty minutes ride - more often than not, crowded.

He woke up at 6:30 in the morning. He was wearing a loose t-shirt purchased from Fashion street. He got out of his bed. His alsatian dog, Terry had already woken up. "Terry, let's go for our walk", he said.

He got the leash of the dog from the brown cupboard and tied it to the dog.

His wife, Sukanya had woken up by then.

"Sukanya", he said to her, "I am going with Terry for a walk. You want me to get something?"

"Get some biscuits please", Sukanya replied.

"What shop would be open at this time of the day, wifey?"
"Why did you even ask then?"

He walked out of the house. "Collect the newspapers and the milk bags, they are lying here at the door", he said as he left.

Sukanya took the milk bags and the newspaper. She kept the newspaper carefully on the coffee table. The previous day's papers were already lying there. She huddled them together. She could see the table-top now. She remembered, they had purchased the table when they purchased the house. She saw the table and loved it - and insisted on buying it. Girish always thought it was an extra frill. But Sukanya still loved the table.

She then took the milk bags to the kitchen, opened them and poured them in a stainless steel vessel. She turned on the cooking gas.

She wiped sweat on her brow with the pallu of her sari. Then she walked towards the kids' room. Fifteen year old Shyaam and nineteen year old Anushka were fast asleep.

"Get up both of you.. Jojo.. Anu..." she tried waking both of them.

"uhh, aai.. five more minutes please", Shyaam said as he hid under the blanket.

"Anu... you have your dance class at 7:30, don't you? Wake up baby.."

Anu opened her eyes. She could see slanting rays of light coming in through the window.

"That's like a good girl. Now you wake your lil brother up while I make breakfast." Sukanyaa hurriedly went to the kitchen. The milk had just boiled over.

She switched off the gas, heaved a sigh of relief.

Twenty minutes later, Shyaam and Anushka sat at the dinner table.

"Mom.. ", Shyaam screamed, "where is the breakfast!"

"Jojo.. relax now. you didn't wake up on time - now how do u expect me to give you your breakfast on time"
"Mom, I'm already late! Why are you giving me these moral science lectures now."

"Shyaam! Mind your language. How can you speak to your mother like that", Girish who had just returned said.

"Here's your cheese toast, your pohe and your corn flakes." Sukanyaa served three plates - for the three members of her family.

Girish loved toasts and sandwiches. Anushka had taken to corn flakes following the diet craze. Shyaam needed something filling.

The three ate in silence. It was intermittently broken by Girish who asked the kids how their school/colleges were going.

"So, Anushkaa, are you participating in the intercollegiate dance competition this year?"

"No Baba.. they said only the senior college students were allowed to participate. I blasted off at the cul sec yesterday for that"

"Cul sec? What's that?" Girish asked.
"The culture secretary dad.. the guy who manages all this?"

"Oh hmm.. I never understand these terms."

"Aai, these pohe are too sweet. Why don't you ever put some more chilli in them?", Shyaam screamed nearly.

"Shyaam, eat what you want to. They have been made for you - and you better finish what's on your plate. You kids don't value what you get these days", Girish would get visibly upset when Shyaam threw tantrums - especially about food.

Sukanyaaa came out of the kitchen and said, "Please don't scold him Girish. I will be better next time ok Jojo.."

Forty minutes later, Sukanyaa was standing at the balcony. Waving goodbye to Shyaam. "Jojo.. don't get late from tommorrow ok."

"and Anu.. don't board a train if it's too crowded. You can reach ten minutes late - you must just reach safely.. give me a missed call after you reach."

Sukanyaa came back to the dining area. Cleared the plates.

Took a little bit of what she had made for breakfast - one last piece of toast and some pohe. Finished her breakfast in less than half the time her kids had taken. Hurriedly took a duster and began dusting the house.

She started with the photo frames - she loved photographs. She had almost eight of them in the drawing room. In fact, she had done up the entire house herself - collecting articles from different places. Every summer, she would go for a vacation with her family and bring back atleast one thing that would add to the decor.

She was a very tasteful lady - knew a great deal about art, colours and aesthetics. She remembered her college days - everyone admired her fashion sense. She was certainly the centre of attraction in the class.

She looked at herself in the mirror. She saw a lady in a worn-out blue sari, the end of the pallu tucked near the waist. Dark circles engulfing the eyes, hair gone haywire - she had a drop of tear in her eyes.

It did not take more than three seconds for her to come back to reality. She continued dusting the house.

Lucky-draw

DISCLAIMER - What follows is for pure humour. No offence meant to anyone.

All the political parties are the same. All the leaders are the same. I suggest an innovative technique for selecting who gets to rule. Lucky draw. Just write names of the candidates on chits - and pick one.

Well, ok, if you want to sound modern, write a 'randomization' program that will randomly come up with a name.

All this will save us a great deal -
1. Saving stationery / voting machinery.
2. Saving 'party workers' who are deployed to undertake the pious task of booth capturing.
3. Saving police attention from registering complaints against them.


Scrap the elections. Embrace lucky-draws.

Because there are only three categories of Indians left today - the ones who don't vote at all, the ones who vote because they are politically linked (and want their mama-ke-bhai-ki-bahu to win) and the ones who vote just for the heck of it.

The breeze on my face

I am standing in the train - on the foot board. My left hand holds the handles of the doorway. I adjust the earphones with my right hand.

I can feel the breeze filling my hair. It is drizzling and I feel cold droplets on my face. I am listening to my favourite song from the Vivek Oberoi film, Saathiya.

Grey clouds have filled the sky. The patch my train is going through has now become green. It's so pleasant.

I am thinking. I love it like this. Makes me feel like the king of the world. It just sets me free.

I get a phone call. I am adjusting the earphone with the right hand. I take the phone out of my pocket to see who is calling.

I loose balance - I have let go of my left hand. I see myself moving backwards, coming out of the train. I hear a thud.

I can now see the train passing by. I feel an excruciating pain in my head. I see the grey clouds, the green patches of land. I see that the train is not there any more. My head moves to the right. I am here the tracks.

I try moving my head sideways. I try moving my legs. I can feel nothing happening. I feel only the pain.

The pain increases. It gets dark.

I can feel breeze on my face now. Just that it is extremely chilled now. I feel droplets on my face. It's not just the raindrops. They are red.



P.S. : Life is too precious to be lost like this. Please do not risk it.

How Akshay got placed...

There are two kinds of people in the world - the ones who score in their exams and the ones who don't. But there is only classification possible as far as talented is concerned - the talented. All of us are talented.

This is about a friend who I believe is very talented! He may be an average-to-above-average student academically - but possesses communication skills which sadly betray many of us.

He recently got placed in a software company. Now... there are hundreds of people who get placed everyday - but to me, this guy getting placed is something I cannot help applauding!

All of us have to wait - wait for turn to have a grab at success. Having patience to wait and making the most of an opportunity when it finally arrives look like the two golden rules of success. My friend Akshay Purandare has shown how...

It reaffirms my belief in the fact that talent somehow, somewhere shines! You need to be true to your own self. And you can come out with flying colours.


P.S. Dear Akshay, you had told me that you would set up a blog and write your story if you get placed. I thought I'd write one by the time you did that!

in need of peace

i need peace. i need silence. i cannot hear what my heart is saying to me.

my thoughts are screaming. and i hear only the sounds of dreams shattering against the rigid floor of reality. i cannot hear what my heart is saying to me.

i can't see where i am heading. because the reality behind selfish relationships jolts me back to a world i so did not want to be in.

i smell blood. blood that oozes out of my nose itself. the blood has managed to break free but the fragrance of my genes wants to get back to where they belong.

i pant heavily. sweat and rain drip down my brow. and i stand amidst the crowd of people. or are they? with the ambitions in their eyes, they look like vicious monsters to me - the ones who'd tear apart anyone who comes in their way...

i need peace. i need to sleep. only to wake up afresh. with the realization that loving yourself is the only religion the world believes in. and embrace the religion too.


( - just a piece of plain fiction. - )

Three points of a circle

Geometry says that exactly one circle passes through any three points placed in the two-dimensional space.

Life comes a full circle too they say; the childhood, the youth, the adulthood and the childhood again in the form of old age.

I am hankering after my desires, my desires are running after my hard work. And my hard work wants me to stop running after desires and embrace it instead. We are going round and round in a circle.

And there is the circle of life. The circle of life, death and life again.

Electricity and soul

What trickles down from the socket through the cord into my computer is electricity. You don't see electricity. But you can definitely see your computer coming to life.

What brings 'life' to a body is something similar. Just that we haven't understood how it works, the way we've understood electricity.

But that does not deny or affect the existence of the soul. It is the electricity of our bodies...

Sex objects

A huge group of guys molested two girls outside a pub in Juhu on the new year's eve. Who is to be blamed? The police? or the guys? .. some of them would even say that the girls are.

In my opinion, the cause boils down to a variety of reasons, the most important being the basic mindset of men in India.

The tendency of looking down on women, considering them as objects. Objects of fulfillment of carnal desires. Objects of reaffirmation of one's 'manly self'.

Men think they are the superior sex. But a group of people who constantly need to remind themselves that they are superior cannot be anything close to that.

The cause of the episode is the same as why women are stared up and down at public places. And the same as why most of the abusive words in Hindi are about women - mothers and sisters.

Artificial Intelligence

Artificial Intelligence is making computer systems do things which humans can. A robot to feed toddlers, a camera-operated system to keep a watch on who's at the door or simply an automatic vacuum cleaner.

The most common application of Artificial intelligence is probably the chess, othello programs that we have played on our computer as kids. The game against the computer has the computer 'thinking'. The set of microchips in the CPU are now a brain - an artificial brain.

While what's catching up are the robots. We have seen Japanese scientists smile to glory as they see doggy robots playing football.

The air-conditioners that update their temperature when the room temperature changes - and that remember preferences of the user is an example of artificial intelligence.

There is so much we can learn from the subjects we have in our college courses...

All one needs is to be receptive.

Figures and speech

When you are a public figure, you cannot speak the way you like. You need to have a right balance of humility and confidence. You need to get your figures of speech right - the ones that are taught in primary school and the ones that are considered the basic building blocks of the English language.

But when these figures are so focussed on their 'figures', why will they bother to mind the 'speech'?!

Thank you Orkut

Orkut has been branded as the 'next bad thing that happened to the youth of today' by most newspapers, especially Marathi newspapers.

I find serious flaws in that. A knife can cut an apple, a knife can cut a throat. It's not the virtue of a knife. It's the intention of the person holding it.

Orkut, to me, brought back friends from school - who had moved out and were out of touch. When you see the person's profile, read about him/her, go through the album, you only feel nostalgic.

Orkut set the background for our school reunion. It was at an orkut community that people thought of the reunion.

Orkut brings together people with similar tastes. Whether this shared interest is Cricket, Asambhav or sex, makes all the difference.

For the positive change Orkut has brought to me, I am grateful.

Round round.. stop

The earth goes round and round. What if it stops one fine day? The effects in a nutshell:

Scientists would panic - it could mean severe gravitational issues.

Weather experts would panic - it would mean day in one part of the earth and night in another.

Ecologists would cite it as a severe threat to ecological balance.

Aah, we aren't going to get boring!

• If India falls in the 'night' half, I would sleep - wuhoo! on and on and on!

• India TV would have a three day supply of sensational stories - what ecologists from Jhumritalaiya have to say, how priests from Kakori are conducting yagnas to set "Dharti maa'' back into motion!

• Hindi movie songs would be "Main tumhe raat-raat (in place of 'din-raat') chaahta hoon".

• If India falls in the 'night' half, diesel generator companies would flourish. If India falls in the 'day' half, solar generator companies would flourish.

• People would visit America. Not to see the Statue of Liberty. But to see how a 'day' looks like.

Can you think of more?

"Maa.." from Taare Zameen Par

में कभी बतलाता नही
पर अँधेरे से डरता हूँ मैं माँ !

युंह तो में, दिखलाता नही
तेरी परवाह करता हूँ मैं माँ !

तुझे सब है पता,

है ना माँ?

The song is full of innocence. An eight year-old child who's scared. Who wants to be in his mom's arms. But is sent off to a boarding school.

The visuals of the boy standing, gazing at the car as it disappears, move you. He silently walks towards the boarding school which he has to call home. Where he must carry the burden of his books and of the expectations set for him by others.

The boy has a complaint. "I kept looking for you", he says, "when dad wanted me to go higher and higher on the swing. But I couldn't find you. Why did you not wait for me, mom? Why did you leave me so far away from you that I couldn't even try getting back to you?"

"You know it all, Mom.. You know I am trying to live up to papa's expectations. Why have you then left me alone, Mom?"

And you see Ishaan crying in the bathroom - leaning against the wall.

The song truly captures the essence of the film. The longing of a child to be understood and to be loved. A fundamental right which is.

We fly...

Days fly everyday.. and the world evolves into a new world.. every single thing in the world has changed.

birds fly towards the horizon.. turn into mere specks. and finally disappear...

i fly.. in the clear sky of my mind. with the wings of aspirations.

we fly.. days, birds and me.

Love's in the air

My school-friend is in love with a guy she met online!!

My brother is in love with his new ipod!!

My mom is in love with the event she is organising!!

I am in love with my books!!

Love is in the air indeed.

Roseshian poem

Rosesh, a character from the TV show Sarabhai v/s Sarabhai, impresses me to no bounds. With his quirky sense of poetry that is full of onomatopoeic lines, his compositions are enough to bring the house down.

He, for me, has carved a genre for himself - poems with sounds, typical alliterations and full of out-of-the-box metaphors. I present a poem that I have written..

..with the blessings of Rosesh,the creator of the genre this poem belongs to!




मेरी मोम्मा सब से प्यारी ,
वह है आज की स्ट्रोंग नारी..

मेरी मोम्मा का स्टाइल अनोखा,
शी इज बेटर डान जिया, रिया,रेखा..

मेरी मोम्मा को प्यारे है फूल ,
उसके खाने पे सब करते है ड्रूल..

मेरी मोम्मा है एकदम ब्रेव,
उससे मिलने को सब करते है क्रेव॥

टीक टीक टिक ..टोम्मा टोम्मा टोम्मा ,
सब से प्यारी है, मेरी मेरी मोम्मा..!

Dance!!

You need not be Prabhu Deva. You don't need to have a perfect body like Hrithik's.

All you need is music. And sway your body to the rhythm. Move your hips - sway your hands. Dance! Such a beautiful form of expression of happiness...


... unless you are Rakhi Sawant!

Metaphor Two

Swami Vivekanand, in the pursuit of self-discovery, undertook a foot march throughout the country. He would walk through small hamlets, eat whatever he would get as 'bhiksha' (donation offered to Swamis in India) and then continue.

While he was passing one of the villages, a group of monkeys saw him. The monkeys were reputed to attack men and rob them of all the food they had. The monkeys started running behind Swamiji. Swamiji began to run as well.

The monkeys kept following Swamiji for quite some time. Swamiji stopped and turned back. He stood still. The monkeys stopped too. Swamiji remained still for some time. The monkeys were not expecting this reaction. They thought something was fishy. They fled.

There is a lesson one can learn from this episode. The more we run from problems and difficulties, the more they continue to haunt and bother us. The solution to solving problems begins with facing them!

Antics of Ekta Kapoor

I remember Hum Paanch and Itihaas. While the former was a family comedy, the latter was what Ekta Kapoor has specialised in - drama. Both were innocent. The characters did not have a 'look' defined to them. They were characters because of the script and the actors playing them.

What Ekta Kapoor comes up with now, is not even drama. It is a 'cinematically embellished melodramatically-packed commercial product'. It's a product and she's selling it.

Every ten episodes have atleast one divorce, one death and yes.. one emergence from death. Post Ekta Kapoor serials, I have ceased to believe that people die. They come back - ten years later perhaps, with a new hairdo maybe. But they come back. There is nothing like death anymore in the world.

And there are actors in these serials- who are on steroids and look like balloons - gloated! With the deadpan expressions on their faces, they mouth dialogues that look so straight-out-of-life. *sarcasm* For example, "Meri zindagi ke darmiyaan guzri hui ranjishon ka tufaan.." Now that's so-a-line I would say in my day-to-day life, huh...!! Satish Shah, Rakesh Bedi wasted time acting! All you need is wear revealing shirts (irrespective of gender these days!) and stand.

The serials are stretched in either or more than one of the following ways:

1. Generation leap: The illlegitimate child (with all that adultery in the serials, we have them in dozens) has grown up and become a spoilt brat. The women, often the protagonists, haven't aged.

2. Love triangles: She gets a new boyfriend. You show them coochie-cooing (with Tushar Kapoor songs in the background - the only place where his songs play) for ten episodes. And then the boyfriend disappears. Only to call it a "cameo" in an interview on one of the other channels.

3. Having ''season-special" episodes: Another antic used is having characters playing 'antakshari'. Everything in these 'season-special' episodes is so scripted! And so fake!

4. Unique 'look's to each character: All I feel like screaming to those actors in Ekta Kapoor serials is - "Where the hell is substance?" I don't care that you don a pierced brow in a serial if you can't mouth a single dialogue properly!!

My engineering self would mention something that is called a 'technology acceptance bell curve'. When a technology reaches its peak, it begins to fall - only to rise again after a trough. My philosophical self would mention the often-used line "There's spring after every autumn". (Pun intended. Kindly refer to an older blogpost - My Autumn.) We are at the trough currently.

By that, I mean the television scene in India has reached an all-time low. With some exceptions. However, to each one his own, I would respect a counter-opinion on this one.

Some Telephone Calls

1st January, 2008
12.10am

Bhaumik: "Hello.."
Aaditya: (in a filmily childishly gujju tone) "HAYLO.. Bhaumik.. Happy budday!!"
Bhaumik: (he knows me.. he takes off in the same tone) "HAYLO uhdityaa.. Thank you!!"
Aaditya: (I can't get enough of it..) "HAYLO Bhaumik.. Happy new year!!"
Bhaumik (told you, he knows me for four years now. he continues..) : "HAYLO uhdityaa.. same to you!!"
Aaditya : "HAYLO Bhaumik.. bye bye!"
Bhaumik : "HAYLO uhdityaa... bye bye..."

1st January, 2008
2:19pm

Savio: "Hi .. Uhdityaa.."
Aaditya: "Yes ..?"
Savio: "Savio here.. remember?"
Aaditya: "Oh hi Savio.. tell me"
Savio: " I am in Mulund today - you wanna meet up?"
Aaditya: "I have an exam day after tommorrow.."
Savio: "Exam??? New year??? "

Either the phone gets disconnected or this guy hangs up of shock!!

1st January, 2008
2:57pm

Aaditya: "Hello Priyanka.."
Priyanka: "Boloo... how are youuuuu"
Aaditya: " I m good... happy new yr to you..."
Priyanka: "Aaaaaah.. thaannnnkkkssssss.. shraddha s with me here.. she s wishing you too..."
Aaditya: "Oh .. say hi to her.. btw.. i wanted your IS notes."
Priyanka: "Oh.. ok.. I'll get them for you on the 3rd."
Aaditya: "And don't forget your birthday treat..."
Priyanka: "You havent forgotten you.. "
Aaditya: "You havent given the treat either! haha"
Priyanka: "Ya baba sure... bbye"
Aaditya: "Byeee!"


1st January, 2008
8:18pm

(Excerpts)
Akshay: "Aadi, I m screwed"
Akshay: " Aadi.. i m scared"
Aaditya: "Akshay.. the paper doesn't eat you up.."
Akshay: "kitnaa baaki hai... "
Aadi: "Wat did you do for the 31st?"
Akshay: "I did frame format for Frame relay. and you? " [THE JOKE OF THE DAY.. quite funny of him!"
Aadi: "Relaxxx akshay.. isnt this seventh engg exam you are giving..."
Akshay: "Aadi.. i m screwed"

(and the cycle continues)

A New 'Year' Has Come

A new year has arrived. On a slightly turbulent note on the home front. But never mind.

Wishing all of you a very joyous new year!!

My new year resolution is - not to make any resolutions!