The Witness

It would be almost two days now that I’m home alone, and tell you what, the foody issues do crop up. Though my culinary skills are not bad, but still, when the solution is just perfectly round chapattis (round enough to keep me trying for ages), I prefer not to be the solver of the problem. And so, there’s this old fellow who runs a shack nearby, along with his son. And things are fine enough for me and my requirement (you’d not go to a rave restaurant for a handful of chapattis! Would you?) to bank on him for a day or two; quality-wise too.

Today, as expected, I went up to him, only to be a ‘witness’ to an incident: As requested, the good old man started shaping out slim circles out of the dough. I stood, waiting outside- totally wrapped up, hands in pockets, but still struggling for some warmth from the cooking stove close to me; the unforgiving wintery wind only made the wait longer. My minimal meal still being prepared, and up came his son-newlywed and the latest entrant into the cusp of manhood. I had always been circumspect about this guy; he seemed somewhat different. And then I came to know about the mental instability, he had since childhood. I guess that’s the reason why I’d always noticed him….why he’d always been so shy….why he’d always seemed so simple….why he’d always looked so real. Anyway, some good-for-nothing fellows walked over to him, and just to idle away the endless free moments they had, started their sarcastically irritating conversation, no doubt, featuring him. I could see that helpless one turn down his head (in front of those cacophonic cowards), and mouth out the misery and soreness he was feeling, in the form of voiceless whispers and exuding expressions. Before I could think of a thing, his father, leaving the stove flaming furiously, roared out like a lion and shooed those pathetic dogs away. I couldn’t help it, but just watched!

Soon after, my wait was over- I took the fresh hot package, paid for the stuff, and started walking back, still revisiting what I had just witnessed (and why did I just ‘witness’ it?). I had just seen the purest alliance in the world; the strongest bond that ever existed; the one between a father and his son, or, between a parent and his child. No matter where you go, who you meet, whatever mistake you commit, your parents would always be there to cushion you, when you fall back, and in case, they are not, they’re making you learn the hard way. Really, at times, the worth of a movie is actually realized, and the lesson it tends to give, more sincerely taken, when you’re a witness to it, and not a character. 

The Coward One

Not a lion's roar, not an eagle's eye           

Feet on ground, never did he fly

Sinew-shroud, sun-dried

Soul in skeleton, not a tower-high

Mortal, mushy, newly naive

He felt, he pained, he could cry

Neither a Noah, never a Christ

He was just another guy.

Alone was he, in an alien land

Tricksters talked, pomp and grand

So scared; mum he would stand

Hypocrites howled, forked and fanged

Fakes flared, burning his hand.

Eyed him the evil, hungry and glad

And there he lay, lone and bland

Petrified by the phony,

Had died the poor lad.

 

I now wonder what he did

Or what he did not

That got him killed.

Those showy strands

He could never put on

Those cheesy chairs

He could never fit in

Those malicious melodies

He could never dance on

Those baleful breaths

He could never take in.

Just that, every bit

His lips synched his heart.

Spoke straight

Be it dumb or smart.

Could identify

An art or a shard 

Thought little

And he would laugh.

Only if he knew a knack

He would be on top of stack

Only if he had a mask

Would have served the task

Alas! He never could find one

And so, never did a man moan

The fate that betide the coward one.

I've grown up....

Remember Junior Moments? Well then, this post might look somewhat contradicting to it, in first flash. But it’s not, credulously, to say the least. See, it’s always rewarding to have a collage of colours surround you. A plume endowed with a symphony of shades is picturesque indeed. A rainbow is no less than bliss to gaze at. The scene gets even more soothing if we add a human life to it; if a few feelings are fused with these colours. Or the other way round; colours are combined with the feelings. The result is enchanting, either case. Following on a similar basis, I don’t think anyone would now mind me behaving childishly one moment, and grandfatherly, the other. Thus, the following few-line anecdotes present to you, that bigger-me. But before highlighting them, just to tow in some more textures, and throw in some more tinctures, I would identify two aspects that make me feel I’ve grown up: the extremely evident and the slightly subtle.

The extremely evident

• Beginning with most easily noticeable; the age old albums---memories-gilded and reminisces-bound--- depicting a little-me---taking my first step, holding mom’s hand; peddling my tricycle with dad following me closely; fighting with the elder brother for the last piece of his birthday cake; performing at our school’s annual day (if, by any chance, standing in the last row on stage, dressed similar to the two rows in front of you, in terms of clothes and expressions, is called a performance), accepting a Secret Seven volume from the principal for standing second in the class--- are nothing but a biological as well as chronological proof that I’ve grown up.
• When I’m not able to fit in my older jeans, it’s a clear indication that I’ve grown up……or maybe that I’ve put on a few kilos. Obviously, I like the former excuse.
• I now have a separate room of my own…..stay up late in the night; not afraid of the dark solitude anymore (well almost)…..I’ve grown up.
• Two years back, I was issued a voter’s card, thereby, officially and legally giving me a ticket to embark upon the journey to adulthood.

The slightly subtle:

• No more half-ticket travels now; a full ticket is what I have to pay for, each of these days….Okay, maybe I’m expecting a bit too much here.
• After the completion of my first year at college, I, in fact, we all, had to submit their anti-ragging affidavits, so as to make the way secure for the new admissions. This event reminded me of my growing age.
• Juniors at college and some strangers outside---the punctual postman and the speedy courier, awaiting my signatures; the untimely salesperson trying to sell off his wares---call me ‘sir’. This certainly gives me a senior-feeling.
• And when there’s a partition at our cultural and tech fests, separating the boys from the girls, the ‘I’ve grown up’ reason surely helps to pacify a kind-of-non-conservative-me.
• When dad’s not home, I’ve to drop mom at workplace. She sits behind me, and the moment she places her hands on my shoulders, I feel good.....and grown up.
• Not all are positives though. At times, a lot of fuss is created when mom asks me to go to a Ladies Sangeet with her. I really get angry at this idea, just because, “Mom, for God’s sake, I’m a man!”
• “Are the sleeves folded up?” “Are the jeans torn at the knees?” “Are they blue?” “Is my cologne virile enough?” “Is my new haircut hip?” “Am I listening to the latest rock band?” “Am I ready for college?” Yeah, I’ve grown up. 
• At the end of the day, when nothing but only music could soothe my frayed nerves, an unintentional intrusion by dad in my room makes me say out, irritatingly, “At least knock the door, papa. I’ve grown up now!”
• After this, there are some non-family signs of the same. Like my every-year- growing disinterest in burning crackers at Diwali, owing to the ever increasing pollution; giving lift to an old pedestrian, or helping him cross the road. 
• At lot many instances, I find myself to be a part of a group of youngsters whose discussions are not just confined to cricket, but span the Copenhagen Summit, Ayodhya verdict, the Wikileaks and lots more. I guess, not a child’s play. And definitely not a ‘time-pass.’
• Just by chance (or while un-cluttering the mess in my room), when I come across a junior-grade scrap book of mine, bearing some early scribblings, I realize the difference between my past and present writings. This difference brings a smile to my lips.   
• Further, my being frequently frisked while I enter a mall, cinema or a sensitive religious place, while a 5-year-old standing next to me goes in, untouched, makes me think(yes think!) that I’ve grown up.
• Lastly, a friend sitting next to me, puffing out smoky circles, notices me getting uncomfortable, only to ask, “Hey, don’t you smoke?”An amazingly blank look on my face makes my soul say out loud, “Oh dear, I’ve grown up!”

The Simpler, the Sweeter

It’s just that moment when bells start ringing in the minds of Indian engineering students. Not of Christmas, I tell you. Begin the dying months of their bachelor’s pre-final year; bells-in a swerve in their style, and preparations for the Common Admission Test rigorously pile; just to, as they say, ‘bell the CAT’; so they finally land in one or the other of the top B-schools in India. It’s a common practice here, or maybe, just a hype; an ego, an obligation, or simply a trend, which makes one follow the other, blindfolded. Since, why on earth would anyone, exactly, waste four precious years of his life, acquiring and polishing his technical skills, if he ultimately plans to merge into the management stream? Seems seriously insane! Anyway, I’m not here to guide you through your careers, neither do I have any sort of plans to interfere. I guess we all are ripe enough to be right.

Continuing, if Electronics and Communication is what you are pursuing, oh boy, you’re in for something bigger. Coinciding with this CATastrophe, there exists, a confusion regarding the six-month-internship. You generally are caught in conflicting thoughts-whether to go for the kill; assassinate your internship with complete devotion and desire, or to settle things out; punch a few warm-up-blows at internship and keep the real strength reserved to pounce back upon the CAT. And some Bonds tend to have the best of both worlds! (Better not to mention such people here, for the words might turn highly harsh and offensive.)

Time and again, I keep confronting people, who already have in their brains, a blueprint of what they are going to do in the coming 10-12 years of their lives; education, job, career, marriage. Oh Jesus, turmoil! Bless these young little visionaries! ‘Just listening’ is what I could bring out the best at such times.

My idea behind this reference is certainly not in favour of making a life waver aimlessly like a ship set sail in a storm. The idea is to reduce the complexity involved, nothing else. Success is sweet, no doubt. But it’d have been sweeter if were attained simply; no nerves, no midways, and of course, no dark circles. Let me quote an instance here, which I think befits this idea:

The selections for the interns started with Goldman Sachs arriving at our university. Oh dear, what a scene it was! There were speculations about the procedure of recruitment, about the genre of the qualifying test, about the level(s) of interview, about the stipend the chosen ones would be getting, and finally, who those chosen ones would be! I too was swept away by this tide of hullabaloo and hysteria, for my name, though somewhere in the end, was in the list of those probables. And then, after asking every other on the list about what to prepare, I found myself in an interesting situation: I had to revise almost all I had studied in the past two years……and just had a night at my disposal. Getting aware of this fact, I could manage out only a grim smile. The task was practically undoable, and as expected, I left it to God’s will. But a stress always remained there in my mind….an anxiety always annihilated me….an envy always made me wonder what others would be up to, at this hour. And then a friend, who had not applied, called me up to ask if we’d be having classes the next day, since the selection was to start in the morning itself, and a large number of people were opting for it. Shocked, I asked her the reason for the same, to which she replied that if there wasn’t any class the following day, she could just well go back home early that weekend. That was the limit! Soon, I spotted the difference between the mindsets of both of us. How simple and easy the things were for my friend at that moment! She was totally calm and composed, which in turn, led her towards hope and happiness. My being almost the opposite of her at that moment- frustrated with fuss, tied with trouble and drenched with dilemma- made me itchy and stressed-out. And if you think that I at least tried to succeed despite such pains, then you might be wrong, for I never came anywhere near to clearing the test. Coming back to the phone call; a real smile finally returned to my lips. “No, there won’t be any class tomorrow. Off you go, little fellow,” I said to her.

There were a few other incidents earlier when I had felt somewhat similar, but had discarded them as meaningless. But as for now, I hope you and me, both got the ‘idea’ I was talking of some moments ago. Things continue to become complex as long as we let them be so. Lesser are the choices, more are the chances that we take the right decision. And more is the probability of us being successful. And guess what, success achieved this way is simpler. It is better. And it is sweeter.

Tonight was his.....:)

Sometimes it so happens that you just can't deny a person (intentionally or unintentionally), a thing, he really deserves. It seems as if he's been doomed to be the owner of that prized possession, one way or the other.This precious thing could be as trivial as the last piece of his favourite tee-shirt at a store or as important as the job, he had been dreaming of since childhood. Or just leave all of these! I introduce you to a far more simple example:

Not as always though, but I was really tired today and so went off to take a nap. The nap soon turned into a gratifying slumber within no time. But I had forgotten about something really important, of which I was not aware at all. Ugh, my sleep was disturbed by an untimely phone call soon after.(Actually it had to be). After repeated but unsuccessful attempts of returning to my dreams, I finally turned to the internet, just to get myself notified about the birthday of one of my closest friends, which was just in an hour or so! Oh dear, how could I forget that? Now you might feel like laughing at this. But guys,such things do matter in friendship; just to show that you care, and in turn, you too derive pleasure from them. And more importantly, you keep those bonds going, strong and young and blonde by following such occasional customs. Thank god, I didn't miss out on one. (And the next one who I'd like to thank is the person who called me at such an ungodly hour).

And for now? Obviously I'm waiting for the clock to strike 12 so that I'd be the first one to wish him.He deserves it...in fact, he deserves a lot more than that....and he's gonna get it, no doubt. :)

All I need...some solitude and some music :)

This particular phenomenon has become popular enough with me that it at least deserves a mention: When a hectic-odd day renders me too feeble to talk to anyone, I just rush back home and climb upstairs, consuming the last few drops of fuel left in me; into the arms of my most faithful friend….my room. J Its being upstairs separates it (to some extent) from rest of the house, and from rest of the world, thus imparting to it, an X-factor …..divine solitude. J Oh, I’m so glad to find such a solace at last. This loneliness, when coupled some alternative rock(ing) in my ears, heavenifies the things. J My frequent smiles tell the entire story. And then I close my eyes......I’m in a world, not really virtual, but definitely not real….where I see myself do what I can’t imagine myself doing consciously. But something’s still to come…..when this trance lasts for long, I’m already feeling something more divine, something more satisfying….something they call sleep. J  

A text-book review.....our EC-tyle \m/

nMOS.....pMOS....CMOS....CMp__n__ ....CM Punk....Punk....Pink...Pink Floyd....Floyd...Freud....Sigmund Freud....!!!!!

And the distortions go on till I close the book by Sung-Mo Kang and Yusuf Leblebici on CMOS Digital Integrated Circuits; the pages as unruffled as ever. Not even for a microsecond, should one think of me being dyslexic here. It’s just the aftermath of Mr. Kang’s bang on my head that leaves me staring listlessly at the enormously expanded equations and the least- enchanting expressions. But as a sincere student, I’m here to highlight the positives of such power-readings.  

The ones who believe that a great writing requires a great idea and hence, a great mind, might be in for a concept-check, since if a least-known 8-pointer with the minimum possible knowledge of…..um…..the terms ‘electronics’ and ‘communication’( or are they said together?) could reach from Fabrication to Freud via Floyd after a few hours of unconscious gaze at some pages studded heavily enough to force the likes of Salman Rushdie to put on a thinking hat, one could very well imagine what wonders a 10-pointer could have done with his exclusive know-how of the course and unending experiences of attending ethical hacking workshops, smart car competitions and rigorous and out-of-the-world/country summer trainings, if he had just taken a careless look. He, within a few weeks, would have written an international best-seller! It’d have been an innovation at its best….a tide at its crest.

But imagination is just not enough. Alongside are required the reiterations i.e. to present the same thing to the reader in seemingly different forms. I just love them and it was actually the reason behind me going for Electronic Devices and Circuits by Mr. JB Gupta, where such repetitions are so pronounced that any two pages selected at random could be cut short into two paragraphs, provided no connectors and punctuation marks are ignored. But look at the brighter side-concepts just glue to your minds after you read them again and again. Indeed an effective way to learn. Isn’t it? At times, when I had the desire to enjoy some complex reading….something which would drive my lethargic brain to toil hard and understand the subtle meanings of the English language, I trusted nothing less than the writings of Mr.Millman Halkiyas. They suited the situation just so well. At present, Simon Haykins seems to be the guy who could match the wit and cleverness of the former. In fact, some noteworthy hints of mathematics visible in his writings give him that extra edge.       

So very often, I’m taken to an entirely different world; thanks to my text books. Plus, they make me dream….after putting me to sleep, thus discarding me out of the danger of insomnia. A clear winner in this category, according to me, is none other than Mr. S.M. Sze. If yellow is your favourite colour…..really? Okay, even if it’s not and you want some hours of tight sleep, close your eyes (not literally) and pick up VLSI Technology by S.M. Sze……Ass Em Sze……Ass Eminem Sze……OMG, I’ve started dreaming again! Anyway, the ones who couldn’t find any kind of writing-inspiration from the previously mentioned texts, are surely expected to love this popular piece from the Mc Graw Hill publications.

Summarizing, if you want to write well or enhance your vocabulary, take a nap or even doze off, try out any of the above mentioned healthy techniques. Still, if you don’t have enough bucks to buy these books, search for the ‘ECE 08-12(TU)’ group on Facebook and send a request. And if accepted as a member (wow!), you could surely get a taste of such a medicine, if not the entire dose, by having an access to the powerpoint presentations posted on the wall of this group, which contain nothing but some excerpts from the same books. Not a bad deal, I think. But do remember to comment a ‘Thanks’ after you go through the same. Or, at least ‘Like’ it. :p

Junior Moments

Every second, a minute treads on….every step, a mile bygone…. Another pile of work on my desk….another mime of murk on my face…. Oh the days of childish grace.

The credit of the lines above goes actually to those numerous people I met, including friends and foes, knowns and unknowns, whose continuous longings for their childhood days made me rhyme their feelings (somewhat). Every odd minute or so, I would hear or could make out at least one yearn, begging to live those ROTFL- moments again. And then, when an antique collector used to upload a group photograph of high school graduation on some lame social networking site, Jesus, a destructive flood of feelings and emotions was what would occur soon after. To worsen the things, would accompany a downpour of ‘miss those dayz bro’, ‘the best dayzz of ma lyf’ and ‘those were da dayzzz’, which would make me wonder what could next be. Loads of crying smileys?  But do smileys really cry? Anyway, I leave the multifarious human expressions untouched here.

These events sometimes give me a cold feeling. They make me feel inhuman of some sorts. The reason being, I fail to experience the same eruption of emotions in me as by others, when it comes to such occasions. But the knowledge I’ve gained so far, rejects any possibility of me being sculptured out of stone. Neither do I have mastered the kaizen, which would have finally made me control my breath and thoughts, just at a thought. So, what could the reason be? It’s simple enough. I don’t miss those days, just because I live them whenever I feel I’m missing them! 

This may seem a bit immature, but wasn’t this what we were looking for? I bet. This is what I call a ‘junior moment’, which can be a momentary lapse into immaturity caused by youth or inexperience. Many a times, I suffer from such moments. When my imagination runs wild, I tend to mix various worlds, unaware of the realism, in which they lie so far apart from each other that it would require only a child’s brain to put them together. Another such activity practised when I’m in the junior-trance is the reconstruction of a given situation with lots of ifs and buts and suppositions, thereby driving me to think of weird possible solutions and arrive at weirder conclusions. Sounds kiddish? Perfect. Further, cracking a really-really poor joke and looking at the bewildered and at times, angry face of the listener is indeed an LOL-moment for me; can’t guarantee if the listener also feels the same. But I end up happy and that’s what really matters. Mind you, I’m here, in no form being selfish. I’m just being childish. :p

“What’s for dinner? Broccoli? No way, mom! I’m never gonna eat that thing. In fact, I’m not having dinner tonight!”  Oh, my arrogance, and that too at a time when I really can’t afford, is a perfect ‘little-example’. I’m not sure if I really enjoy this particular moment since my empty stomach makes me think of nothing but food. But, like a kid, I’m writing in everything I know, anyway. Arguing on practically nothing with a friend and thereafter not speaking to him for a few hours or days, even though I want to, reflects the somewhat-non-adorable boy in me and the fact that I’ve mentioned this negative fact here, presents to you the unbiased behaviour of a child.

The examples are countless and just a little amount of thinking makes me identify them. I’m amused when I do notice them and the feeling is no less than great when I relive them. Finally, when I return to the real world, I feel relaxed and refreshed and ready to go with an increased energy. So the idea is clear. The people, who you deal with now, may not be the ones, you worked with before. Still you can be happy if you just follow an amateur advice:

Let the minutes go, let the miles flow, never bother….Things around you may change, but the child in you won’t….So let’s laugh some more….Let’s be a kid again. 

Fusion versus Confusion

I wish,‘birds of a feather flock together’,actually meant what it seems to. But just because the twenty six alphabets of a language known for its simultaneous subtlety and straightness, can be scrabbled to form such annoying antonyms, severe synonyms, lengthy lexicons, vicious vocabularies, and above all, myriad meanings, that could leave one cribbing and bitching and lurking in the dark for long, surprises are surprises no more. A similar phenomenon occurred when the birds were flocked, wolves were packed and straws were stacked. Or maybe, I interpreted it wrong once again. Anyway, the expected unexpectedness is here to stay.

Coffees of similar strengths, workouts of equal lengths, raps with same rhythms and perceptions with equivalent visions- Oh dear, we have a perfect pair, and then slowly, the pair turns into three, increasing thereafter, until saturation is achieved. Naively, it might look like me preparing a catchphrase for a ‘family planner’s guide to success’, but since I’m not, this makes it just another rightful entry in my list of common confusables. Never mind though. The stats are updated every time I pick up a pen and a paper, or to be more truthful, a keypad and a Kindle. (‘Keypad and Kindle’ actually refers here to the tech forms of writing these days. Blogs are one of them. It’s natural to be confused by this phrase. Hail the multitude of the language).Moving on, these people, whose encounter, according to them was tested, okayed and approved in the heavens way before they were born, derive a pleasure when they eat the expected, drink the defined, laugh alike and adorn the same stripe. Wow. We finally stand united! As a bonus, we sit united too! At last, we are where we wanted to be.

But on giving this thought another spin in my mind, I end up whacked by the witty words once again. How could they get an upper hand this time around, when I was so very sure? Boy, I being no more than an ordinary being can’t take a thrashing every now and then, especially in a game I consider myself to be somewhat good at, if not the least. But to cover up anyway, a reason always exists, and if it does not, it is made to exist willy-nilly. Well this time, I blame it on my excitement in seeking a successful society as soon as possible, which in turn, navigated me in the direction of misjudgment. What initially seemed to be a unity, had ultimately divided the society into numerous patches of all but similar colours, imparting to the world, all of its hues (and cries). These patches never seemed to morph into even a meager mélange, but the brightness of each alone went berserk, as if to fade away the others with an inundating intensity.

Nevertheless, excuses, what I believe, are certain occurrences which would die out only with the sun and wind. Similarly, these ‘divides’ are very cleverly veiled by cloaks of similar interests, similar pastimes, similar passions and similar fashions. Oh, even my words have started sounding similar now! But a jerk would never care, until and unless he bothers a bit to expand his thoughts beyond the boundaries of his annoying orthodoxy. Alas! He never would; he would never be a real jerk, wasting his time in an unwanted interaction, which he very smartly tags as an unscrupulous intrusion. The arguments sound diplomatic indeed.

There seems to be only a single breath that could be squeezed out of this otherwise dead rubber, and that too in the form of a hope; a hope that these grain boundaries would dissolve one day, thereby leading to an amazing assortment. This, in fact would be the best thing to have around. The canvas would be painted evenly; shades would modify; older ones would be bettered and newer ones created; tinctures would blend, presenting to the human eyes, their most soothing sight ever. This fusion would release in the air, positive vibes possessing an energy which would be comparable with that released by its nuclear counterpart. Linguistically, we would finally have a phrase which would actually signify fusion instead of confusion.

Night of the Champions

At that particular hour, when He woke up in sweat, suffocated and severely satisfied that He had had enough of hallucinating hearings from His sons-prayers, plying for perfection; deliriums, demanding a direction; expectations, enclosing excellence; sighs, surrounding super success and bribes, baying for better butter and breads- the Almighty underwent a change; edited the gazillion-year-old, treacherous tome of Human Management; wringing out a few new rules from the holy quill, strangling to death, the cursed and the booed ones and holding back with Him, His favorite ones. An attitude adjustment of this might was accompanied by a shake of the earth and a tremble of the moon; the unlucky sons still engaged enormously in their chores, deaf-eared to the sonic boom.

Despite such a shift, the sun shone, somewhat timidly though; and the winds continued to blow, not happily so. The birds bore a baleful look, the rivers rued and the skies swooned. But synthetically, the things seemed bright and big. Not a hint of inexperience could be sensed out of the thin air. The situation was just so perfect, materially. Everyone was dressed to the nines, looking dapper and smarter. The overall efficiency of the world had increased by leaps and bounds, thanks to the changes in the law book, which apparently seemed to be working out for the humans. Sciences advanced, inventions rained, industries flourished and more mouths were fed. These ‘developments’ took place at a rate, numerous times greater than the previous ones in the history ever; the sole reason being the ‘All, Bonds at work’ this time. A superior site was in sight. The records fell like apples on a windy day. Guess who’d have been the happiest person? Newton! But we already had, at present, some perfectionists lurking around, in fact, many of them, far better than a Newton, an Einstein or a Maxwell. And none of them bothered to stick a neck out, only to take a look, since the gargantuan improvisation in their performing capabilities and in turn, the unending expectations of each and every kind from them had left with them, only miniscule moments of respite, and those too were booked in advance by their breaths. No regrets though. The burden of success was not despised to any depth by these great minds. They seemed to be enjoying it, on the contrary. All of a sudden, the world’s vocabulary started dealing in the superlatives: fastest, greatest, richest and the best; the next form being, ‘better than the best.’ There seemed to be not even a single room for error. From the cradle to the gate, and from the origin to the end; every execution was precise and pure and perfect. Maybe the sons got finally, what they had wanted. Or not?

Actually, this meticulousness came at the cost of the lesser mortals. The lower levels of the hierarchy had to serve as stepping stones to make their successful counterparts, more successful; sorry, the most successful. And what was next? No doubt, the commons, needed no more here, were banished from this faultless world. And whosever left, lay in a squalid and redundant state in the filthiest corner of the poorest street; their value not more than a penny, or not even that. The urban lights never cared to lighten the lives of these excess and dying men, leaving them to be engulfed, one day, in the stark darkness of ignorance and exile. Their ruthful cries could never reach those aristocrat-ears, deafeningly blocked by the foulness of fantasies and fanfares. But there was still some more, waiting in the stock, to be unleashed.  

The haunting part turned out to be the rate of this mass destruction, which seemed to be getting way faster with each new discovery made by our Dexters. The bar separating the high and the low, the savvy and the sod was rising; taking in everyone, belonging to those levels which were considered better, a few days ago and the best, a few weeks ago. Holy Grail! The end was nearing, and nearing fast. The situation was grim. A scintillating gloom had arrived. A night had descended. And this night seemed to last so long, till her creators did not surrender to her, completely; till she didn’t win over them, single handedly; and till she didn’t make them experience a kink of their lifetimes, cruelly. She was hungry for ingenious blood. And, no doubt, the present scenario was providing superbly to her needs, making her more intense and inveterate. Utter horror prevailed around. She sounded like and literally was, the Night of the Champions.

                                 

You just got it wrong....

Things could have been entirely different if I did not do what I did but did exactly what I was expected to do. How? Let’s take a look:

• Two years back, if only I had overcome the urge of my fiddling fingers to darken those bubbles of the JEE OMR sheet which I shouldn’t have even thought of considering unless I were at least 80% sure, I could have been savoring the weary work load and filthy food, the IITs are generally so famous for. Or what could have been even better, I could have achieved a day’s fame in the newspapers soon after I had joined the hall of shame of those students who finally give up to these draining and strenuous tasks, leaving behind haunting memories for their room-mates and some really lamenting ones for their inconsolable parents.
• I could have avoided getting a ticket from the cop if only I had dismissed the idea of feeling the gentle touch of the rejuvenating breeze on my face and caged my head in a helmet instead.
• I could have been ‘committed’ to some insane and moronic airs of that cute girl if I had carried on the silly conversation she had begun, in turn, leading me far away from my cronies and making me iterate nothing but some false and fed-up praises of her looks and locks all day long.
• I could have continued my streak of being healthy and non-sick for some more seasons only if I had locked myself up in my room in place of going out and playing in the rain.
• I could have bagged the scholarship if had scored a handful more marks in the board examinations, which as a bonus, could have awarded me the anxiety of getting a C.G.P.A greater than 8.0 every semester and a fear of not getting the same.
• Further, I could have been a known face in the university if I had kowtowed to the ridiculous and dreadful demands of the so called seniors and served instantly at their beck and call.
• I could have been the owner of a Greek-God-like physique if only I had enjoyed the chaffy and fibrous diet for just a few more years, in spite of my frequent visits to some really royal restaurants and junk joints.

Hey presto! The scenario seems far better this way. So what if I achieved it by neglecting the whimpers of my wailing heart, bellows of my bare soul and puffs of my panting body? So what if I limited my thinking, clichéd my actions and frisked away the humorous intentions in this fray? At least, I proved myself to be right, socially and morally. At most, I generously donated a few years of my life to gloom and pity. But this doesn’t really matter. Does it?

Just give it a single thought, if only we were destined to follow the rules and regulations in a copy-book style, I guess the human brain would have been the least used part of the body and the human heart would have just pumped blood. We would have begun ‘born’ but ended up ‘manufactured’ one day, with the same old programs ‘burned’ in our brains to perform the desired activities in the desired sense. Creativity, innovation and novelty would soon have become a thing of the past, monotony and stereotypy soon replacing them thereby.  

I feel relieved and ‘human’ when I recall the above mentioned instances. It’s heartening to know that the situation is still not that bad. Human tendencies to go against the law have still not died down. The naughty flame is still alive. We generally are lured into doing those tasks which we have been asked not to do otherwise. That’s what keeps the courts buzzing and the authorities busy for most of the times. I would always fidget with the electric circuit boards at home, inserting and testing things of different materials and then turning the switch on to make sure that I guessed the conducting behavior of that species right and also to have an electrifying experience at times. I would find it just the right time to check my speeding skills when a cop spots me helmet-less.

Yes, it’s true that I don’t always end up on the winner’s side but I do have a satisfaction that I’ve at least converted my tendencies into actions and no one else except me is responsible for the results whatsoever.

Also, such ‘wrong activities’ provide an experience of which you can boast later on, thus proving your mettle. But more importantly, they give you an insight into the real life and prepare you for the battle ahead by making you stronger, not with success but with failures. A worldwide belief that wrong means lead to wrong ends is at many times wrong. Obviously I’m keeping myself confined to trivial wrongs, since I’m mature enough to differentiate between seemingly wrongs and real wrongs. Anyway, if  a kid were asked to write an article on “Failures are the real teachers”, then he could have easily grabbed 5 out of 10, if he had included some of the points mentioned in this ordinary piece, provided he had written in a beautiful hand, of course :p

Hence winding up, the next time things don’t work out the right way, give the wrong means a try, not always though. Wrong can be called a slightly distorted form of the right. It’s twisted. It’s inverted. And it’s convoluted. As a perk, it comes with an extra thrill, frisson and fright which are missing in an otherwise traditional way of achieving a particular goal. And not forgetting what a ‘hurt’ Johnny Cash once said,” I hurt myself today, to see if I still feel.”

So, try believing in wrong. Cash it. Spend it. Enjoy it. You’ll fall. Get up. Move on. Just remember that wrong ain’t always wrong. Unfold it to discover the right hidden inside. Doing right things the wrong way can hardly be a crime; but please don’t take me wrong: p

A thing I did this summer....

With our sweet summer break now barely lasting for a day or two, I think it’s just the right time to share a few things about a few activities I pursued over the last 40 days or so. But since I believe in the “one in hand is better than two in a bush” theory, it would better for me to focus solely on one of the many activities here. Another reason for the same could be that this particular activity requires somewhat special attention, keeping in mind the number of hours I devoted to it religiously. But no regrets, since I thoroughly enjoyed this long and regular performance, and in the end, happiness is what really matters.

Okay, no more rigmaroles now. I quickly pull off the curtains to introduce you to my very- old-but-lost-somewhere-in-the-middle-but-now-rediscovered love for the movies. Yes, I was a movie buff; lost out on my way somewhere in the past few years, owing to the hectic study schedules but OMG! Now I’m back again, seeking a redemption for the sin I committed in the past. And maybe I went a long way in this pursuit for salvation, since this summer, I was sanctified by some coveted classics, fulminating fantastics and some binding basics. One moment, I would jump out of my couch with thrill; the next, I would scream out with a shrill. The third moment, I would be on the verge of breaking down (I’m not kidding) or laughing my lungs out. The upcoming couple of seconds and minutes and hours would consist of innumerable permutations and combinations of the above mentioned rudimentary expressions, giving rise to emotions of a different kind. It’s actually one of the two reasons I prefer to watch movies all alone in my room, the other being my desire for a pin-drop silence.

Since I’m 19, I’m by default, young. And there’s no doubt that I’m attracted to movies with lots and lots of action and glitz and glamour. I’m blown away by the blitzkrieg, gratified by the guns and stunned by the stunts. I wait for the Mummy to rise again, pirates to die but feign and finally, Spiderman to do the villain down the drain. Clearly, I can’t miss out on the Joes and my Spartan bros. And then there are flicks featuring fast and furious speed demons, sci-fi thrillers and entertainment- quenchers; making me realize how tumultuous a task it could be to ‘secure’ a US president. Oh, did I forget to mention the mighty mutants?

Moving close to reason and rationalism, Sherlock Holmes is a treat….not only for the skeptics, mind you. The scenes set in ancient times, elegant lifestyles, graceful and chivalrous tongues….Lord, I love this stuff! Such movies give me a royal sense and above all, a mesmerizing two hours of some impeccable reasoning. Since now we’ve started talking of tongues, one of the many things I always look for in a movie is a strange accent, a weird slang or an archaic so magnificent; just because I like exploring new worlds and the ways they communicate to one another. Even some ordinary sets of English words are un-miss- able, when a French or an Italian speaks them and the amusing pronunciations bring a smile to my lips. Did I say ‘smiles’? It’s time to present Jim Carrey to you. Though I didn’t have much of him this summer, but he’s always been one of my favorites, mainly because his non-verbal communication which includes his goofy face and even goofier expressions. In the lighter section, Disney and Pixar movies are next, which make me dream and desire and achieve and aspire.

But my life lies in those two-hour streaks which take me a bit closer to the scenario of realism; which make me feel the sunny and shady parts of the human life; which take me through emotions, subtle and sweet and sour simultaneously. They may not be romantic. They may not be melodramatic either. They maybe a mix of each and every emotion, mankind is aware of till now. Judging them from a critic’s point of view, they require much more inputs and pains on part of the actors as compared to the action thrillers; since there are no cyborgs, no machines, no tools and no scientific tricks and techniques involved to divert the attention of the audience from the basics of acting. How convincingly the things begin, move on and come to an end; is a real challenge for the entire crew. When completed with paramount precision, they leave the audience with a tear in their eye, a gratitude in their heart and an ‘ahaa….’ in their mouth. And the sad ends, if exist, require even more hard work and clever depiction. Finally, the operas, the violins and the saxophones beacon out a grand end, making the people believe that they’ve just experienced a phenomenon.

I may have mentioned only some trivial names in this script. It was difficult for me to fit in all. But I do look forward to taste all kinds of stuff, when it comes to movies. A thing I still have is my non-viewing of the horror movies, for I don’t want to spend sleepless nights in my room, staring at the blank roof or waking up terrified at the slightest of the movements of the noisy door, taking it to be the arrival of a vampire looking for human blood. I’m not sure if I’ll get out of this phobia. Maybe I’ll give it a try one day.

But as for now, I love torrents, I love downloading, I love btjunkie and I love my friends who I turn to when I need some more delightful delicacies to watch. So, keep watching. Cheerio!

Intense irritation eradicated:)

RELIEF! It seems as if a thorn in my flesh has been removed. For quite some time now, I had been trying and trying hard to install the Intense Debate comments app on SYHO. Wonder why on earth...in fact why on Blogspot, I wasn't achieving success at all, even though my each and every step was just right, technically?!! I had almost given up. 

Then just tonight, I tried out the new templates launched lately by Blogspot. Finding some of them really beautiful, it took me no time to apply the most beautiful of them. And guess what..... this one came with the gift I had been longing for since long. Yup, I could see the Intense Debate window planted in my Heart,making the new design even more adorable!(for me at least)

The solution to this puzzle was indeed a trivial one.The earlier templates were not completely official, for I had downloaded them randomly and not to forget, unconsciously. And so the desired app was not going along well. But my unexpected-template-changing-act proved to be just the right remedy for this problem. 

Well,everything is in the best of health and spirits now and I expect the things to stay in the same form in the near future. 

As for now,you people can pour in easily with your comments....the things are fully functional:)

Hybridizing a newspaper and a blog

Ever since my childhood days, I’ve always had a fetish, a craze, a rage for perhaps the cheapest, the divinest, the godliest and the most frequently served service at my house- the Newspaper. Oh Yes! My voracious liking for the ‘Voice of the Nation’ began with me being awe-struck and at times amused by the ‘Picture(s) of the day’, the caption contests and the Garfield and Dennis the Menace series (Oh com’on, I was just too little to read on ‘heavier things’!). With more and more of reading some sense and reading the sensational, I switched over to the burning hot and burning red ‘front page’, before shifting to sporty columns and ultimately ending at the elite editorials, the ‘Comments’ and the ‘Think-overs’. I could still remember those hasty mornings, when I used to literally gulp down some disemboweling facts and figures with the glass of milk I emptied down to the full, unaware of the school bus which had already been delayed because of my hard-core habit.

Slowly and gradually, I was taken aback by some blooming blogs, bucketful buzzes and tickling tweets and found ‘My Space’ in the virtual world, only to savor a sudden down pour of some more novel ideas and exhilarating personal experiences and to relish a ‘Follower’s burden’! I wonder if any burden could ever be so amazing, so satisfying and so enchanting. On the whole, the older-but-still-in-use forms of fury (newspapers) with an electronic-touch lead to a power-packed YOU, verbally, intellectually and knowledgably.

Behold! Hope you like surprises for I might leave you with your jaws dropped down! There’s something which is as popular and old as a newspaper and as widespread as a blog. From the past few days, I’ve been noticing some strange scribblings. The most interesting part is that these writings are neither a part of any publication, nor a blog or not even a splog! Oh no-no! I’m not talking about the sacred writings on the historical walls, since those alien scripts are beyond my cerebral reach. I tend to remain on the simpler side here. Well, I’m talking about the scrabbles, the scratchings and the doodles devised by the common man, just to express his feelings, emotions, sorrows, miseries, happiness, elation or whatever comes to his mind, with the ’public walls’ serving the dual purpose of a canvas and an easel( Maybe, that’s why Facebook too has a ’Wall’). It’s actually a nice- little publication where you make a note and leave it ‘public’! Another fact is that you yourself are the reporter, writer, cartoonist and the editor of this publication. Plus you don’t have to worry about the regularity of the editions since you are not ‘officially’ engaged in such an activity. Write whenever some solid stuff strikes your skull. A vast writing space is waiting for you. You just need to escape your ‘future readers’ ’ eyes while writing. Isn’t that adventurous too? You might be thinking this is somewhat similar to the internet blogs. But these ‘Public blogs’, what I like to call them, are better since they are accessible and readable to those who don’t even know the A,B,C of computers….actually the C,C++ of computers, I should say.

Talking of my age, I’m surrounded with so many such blogs in my university. Whenever we’re having a boring lecture (Oh please! When don’t we have one?), out comes a writing tool and a public blogger is born. He with his ‘creativity’ runs this tool only to add to the beauty of the frail wooden desks. Every now and then I come across such inscriptions and some of them make me smile, some make me giggle while the others make me guffaw (No bad thoughts please). I can identify a potential-philosopher, a cool dude, a good-for-nothing fellow, a geek, a despo or a nerd from these writings…no need to give your profile information separately.

Getting out of the university, I can see some love stories engraved on the trees, where the names of the ‘creators’ are carefully contained within the boundaries of a heart-shaped structure, not to forget the Cupid’s arrow, dear. The lovers certainly seem to be ‘brave’ enough to screech a ‘heart’ on the heart of a silent biomass. But traditions and customs are made only to be improvised later on. Similarly, such activities of graffiti and street art, when given the aid of lustrous, glossy and shiny spray paints, attain a more modern and a gen-next look. The territorial extent of such blogs seems endless, taking in railway stations, bus terminals, planks, pillars, boulders, rocks and not even sparing the public toilets!(Best place to flush out your frustration.) 

I don’t know if you’re allured into becoming such a blogger after reading this, especially the ones who like to decorate themselves with the title, ‘anonymous’. I’d personally not recommend this kind of activity to anyone, which though having the pros of a newspaper and a blog has its own cons, the major being damage to public property. But one can’t deny that such kind of ‘media’ is really cheap. Even cheaper than a two rupee newspaper:p    

He left me....only to be frenzied some more!!

Strained relationships seldom last long, a thing I’ve learnt over the past years of my life. Those spits and spats, slurps and smacks, cricks and cracks; one day or the other overpower and ultimately extinguish the dying-to-die-out flames of failure. SWOOSH!! The game gets over. The boots are hanged. The knots are undone. Divergent paths are chosen. No more interference. No more disturbance. Nothing!

 My monotonous expressions point to the end of a unique relationship involving human and anti-human forms of life. As expected, the human form represents me, my self, my soul (Always safe to take the main lead and humiliate your-self to any extent you want to) and the anti-human form makes up for the mirage of mathematics.

Chronologically, my almost 20-year old association with mathematics ended on 22^nd May, 2010, at exactly 1200 hrs, when the itchy examiner (really itchy) snatched away the Optimization Techniques answer sheet from me. Clarifying to the non-non-medicals, OT, as we people ‘used to call’ this subject, is nothing but some more mathematics, presented to you in some more annoying and some more fretful form. Continuing after the disdainful act of the examiner, I felt an enormously heavy load being taken off my slowly-wearing-out shoulders. My long lasting battle with my greatest enemy ever had just ended. My life had just tasted LIFE. I’d now no longer be droning on the sad, somber and murderous melancholy of mathematics. I’d now no longer be: irked by the innumerable iterations, aroused by the awful algorithms and numbed by the noxious numbers. Heaven! Whoa!

But was it really a whoa-moment? Was it that heavenly?  Did it really deserve such a celebration? An elation? A jubilation? Not really! Sad but significant to mention here, I was not the one who ended up on the winning side. A grace-saving statement, if any, to quote would be that I ended up on the learning side. It seemed as if my unfathomable foe marched out of the battle-field with head high and leaving me with enough to cry after making sure that I had nothing more left in me to face him but a bruised body, a scarred soul and a pitiable panorama. The great Goliath glided away un-manned, un-chained, un-tamed, showering a few drops of mercy on me.

Bringing the past to the present, I remember falling down the wagon every now and then, struggling with crude concepts and eerie estimations. The algebra anguished me, vectors vandalized me, coordinate killed me and the ratios and proportions ruined me. Not leaving behind, geometry jeopardized my left-over chances of success. But ‘probability’ gave me some solace, just because I started with concentrating on the text book, but ended up tossing coins and rolling dices, just to get a better understanding of the topic! Practical approach?

Reaching the upper rungs of the ladder of gaining knowledge, the grudges got intense and professional. With engineering mathematics knocking at my doorstep, my nightmare confronted me in bits and parts, the first being Mathematics-I, followed closely by Mathematics-II. The two together appeared to me as a Hollywood movie series, where the sequel is all the more complex and complicated than the starter. The devastation seemed to be unending with some exclusive math, Numerical Analysis and OT still waiting for me. Each and every step of mine now shivered even more. Every minute now my heart missed a beat. But I treaded on somehow.

And now I stand here in the present, exhausted and intoxicated by the mere thoughts of a hefty past, expecting a brighter and a balanced future. A part of my mind says me to relax since I won’t be facing that old maniac anymore, not at least for the coming two years. Another part tells me to be even more cautious from now on, for we may meet again. Maybe my mental tormenter has given me some time to heal, some moments to mend myself. Maybe he’ll rip me off with even more strength and even more brutality the next time. A dilemma now dazzles me, if he’s set me free only to be caught again? Or he’s had enough of me? There’s also a possibility that the ‘time out’ may be an attempt to do me out of my wits, since I’d be thinking of his next move over and over again and become a bait to my own madness!

 Nevertheless, I hope to give him a tough competition at the next and final face-off. It may not be today, may not be even tomorrow. But a defeat still needs to be avenged. A debt awaits to be cleared. A calculation stalls to be solved.           

Acts in Waiting

With the sun sending out a clarion call loud and clear, signifying the termination of yet another tempting dreamy torrent, which might otherwise lead to a perilous procrastination, it’s time to let loose! It’s time to be a part of a seemingly inimical but still widely followed phenomenon all over the world, called LIFE. You never know what she’s got in for you today. She might surprise you with some sweet successes or humiliate you with forgettable failures. Curious by nature, as a typical human is, you are driven by a Pandora’s desire to find, relish and exploit this hidden treasure.

In this process of ‘discovery’, you might…in fact you’ll definitely encounter an uncountable number of people having different beliefs, mindsets, intellects and ethos. But out of this lot, there are only a few whose memories in our lives for long tend to stay...those who brighten our lives, otherwise grey…and those whom seeing we stately sway.

What’s actually the reason behind such revered reminisces? Why is it that we remember those godly-gleaming faces even though we don’t know their names (forget about the religion they belong to)? How come their mere thought makes us jump up with joy? Well, the thing can be as simple as an act of alchemy, an act of benignity or an act of co-operation, which those strange saviors performed for us one fine day. The thing can be even simpler as a day of their life, they gifted to us, just to make our lives bigger and better. And in return, these people had no complaints and no demands, since the ends they achieved by doing so were ultra-satisfying.

Numerous number of times, such acts await our arrival. We just need to distract ourselves (positively) from the tiring and unending journey and grab the opportunity with both hands to be included in the above mentioned ‘class of nobles’. These can truly make a life, a better life to liveJ

Retrospect your life, purify your soul,

Imagine a human with humanity as a whole.

Work life, shun sins, stop hating,

Just once try out these Acts in Waiting.

Lone Survivors

An utter wilderness enveloped in seething skies,      

A sultry silence crevicing into a scary size;     

A maverick malice hovering like a hound,

Not a drop to quench the thirsty ground.

The scene seemed so ugly and sad,

The death fires danced happy and glad.

Surviving in the ocean of blood and gore,

Daring death and bearing the furore;

Stood a fern, weak and frail,                               

Breathing in death with every inhale.

His boughs giving a tired glimpse,

His eyes a witness to an awful apocalypse.

A rage he suffered over the years,

Left his life in tatters and tears.

Deathly battles and sinful battalions,

Snatched from him, his beautiful companions.

Lonesome now, he ranted and raved,

Dreaming of the golden times he craved.

So insane the annihilation could be,

So hard a code to decipher it could be;

It could make you moan and make you cry,

It could give life to death and cause life to die;

And banish the earthlings into an evil exile,

Like the fern,

Leaving many a lone survivors to stand by.

Infectious Divide Unleashed....

A jam-packed Indian Railways coach forming a tithe of a somewhat ancient structure on wheels which is somehow made to cover a distance million miles greater than its length with the aid of 15-20 minute stops after every 45 minutes or so, as if to take breath; the inner atmosphere being dominated by the cries of the local vendors pursuing hard to sell off a few plates of Rajmah-chawal and Paani-puris(reflecting the culmination of unhygienic levels) and the marauding of the unruly kids showing the failure of their mothers to put them to sleep; you being the only one of your kind in the entire compartment, as if a lotus in the mud because of a sturdy travelling bag on your shoulders, a winsome watch in your wrist and a bit modern apparel adorning your body, holding on bravely to a space barely enough to accommodate your feet, but bequeathed to you by a noble person who got off at the last stop, leaving you only to be ogled by one and all for a few minutes after you enter the arena:- The conditions seem just perfect for a coliform bacteria to infiltrate into your body through the porous boundary lines.

Anyway, you reach home after the tiring and ordinary journey, cherish your home-coming initially and the very next day……aaacchhooo! What was that? The first blow-out? Perhaps this indicates the beginning of the bacterial escapades inside your body. What next? Your glowing face is doused out, the cheeks turn from pink to pale and the infection in you intensifies with every breath you inhale. Out comes a menagerie of the medical examinations you have to undergo and consequently you’re put on a diet studded with Crocins, Zenthrils and Roxid-150s, the prescriptions going on and on at least for a week. The credit for this care goes to your dear dad and if he’s a doctor himself, better stay prepared to face the strictness a bit more, in fact a lot more.

On your mom’s part, the scene is a bit different for she’s a firm believer of the desi-nuskhaas (homely remedies) as well. So you have to simultaneously pass through gauntlets of salt-water gargles, consume karahs(potions) made of a thousand ingredients and also listen quietly to her advice, which you normally don’t when you’re 100%! This calls for high levels of tolerance from the patient’s side, particularly if he’s in his teens:p

But now, taking the serious route, what I wanted to show form the above events is the growing divide in our society! Confused? Don’t be. The scene could’ve been different and healthy if the journey were in the shade of an air-conditioned deluxe compartment, instead of the general one. You could’ve been hail and hearty then. So, have we become so addicted to this princely lifestyle that we could no longer mix up with the other level of the society? Unfortunately, the answer may be yes and this is an indirect discrimination! It’s such a shame that we cover up for this kind of attitude with the excuses of a safe and a sound journey. What about those travelling normally? Are they not safe then? Are their lives not precious? The fact looks trivial but makes sense.

I was really shocked to learn the things this incident introduced me to and I regret my mistake. So, will I be going by the same old and primitive vehicle again…….You never know....:)       

Dealing in the 3's.....

The order of the Supreme is here to stay…..Making many moan…and the others GAY!!!!

Whenever I see an XY hanging out SUSPICIOUSLY with a somewhat genetically similar sapien, I just close my eyes only to recall a simple, yet shocking mathematical calculation, and get an even result at the end. The algorithm goes as:    (3x7)+7=28 (EVEN)! Actually I’ve been forced to think that way!:p

Putting it the other way round, the number 377 is no longer ODD in ALL ITS FORMS! Seems to be a frustrating fact to digest but nowadays, it’s just so legal…just so Constitutional! Courtesy, some lunatics, with a seemingly social sense surmounting in them, going to a PETA-like extent to get things done and finally forcing a third window onto the façade of the Indian society. Attention! This third window bears neither a He, nor a She! Fascinating? Freaky? Both?   

Though not sure of its technological follow up, India seems to be religiously aping the West in OTHER things. Aal Izz Well has so monstrously flooded the Indian coastlines that the inhabitants could now patch up anywhere, anyhow and intriguingly, with ANYONE, without giving second thoughts! Going for the third level, eh?

An alarming after-effect of this phenomenon: Spatial considerations have become just so significant. No matter how ready-to-die-for-each-other friends you are, you need to maintain a certain minimum Conversational Gap while having a chat, to escape some unnecessary titillation at the hands of the gossipy masses. Special caution to those with restless and tinkering hands and dancing feet!:p

Holy cow! India seems to be missing the right bus, by entertaining such a bane-new idea. There exists just no sense but a cluster of mentally frail thoughts revolving around. This strange symbiotic existence is no less than a mad- man theory! Maybe a mad- woman theory…or something else.What do I think is that the new concept is close to impossible to click, for the Indians at least. A near-napalm need prevails to resurrect the laws locked by nature, for she’s too furious to be violated!

She's calling....

I was born free,

Shining as a pearl in sun’s glory.

A lush green cover on my breast,

An unending treasure lay in my crest;

Soaked in a nectar deep blue,

Never did an intruder pass through.

I gave birth to a lovely son,

His eyes glowing, face blazing in the sun;

Bestowed him with all I had,

Never gave him a reason to be sad;

Nested him from a chilling cold and a simmering summer,

Cradled the baby with care as to a fragile flower;

Camouflaged him from venomous snakes and the deadly hornet,

In return, he called me The Blue Planet.

Alas! Blooming out, allured into him an ambitious,

His desires grew, his thoughts turned vicious;

Swelled in him, a sense of sore for others,

Envied the ones he had once called his brothers;

Divided me into fragments very smartly,

Exploited my assets whole heartedly;

I was deafened by my sons’ cries,

Hordes of whom everyday used to die;

Drowning in my own blood,

My golden graffiti turned into mud;

Never did my voice in his mind ring,

Besieged by the success song he used to sing.

For his pleasures, I had to be chained,

All my power, my energy was drained;

Still not content with what he had amassed,

Looted my wealth, he could’ve otherwise asked;

Oblivious of the warnings I gave to him,

He lay lull under the shade of deadly toys he had made for him.

Visualizing his future, I shriek,

Thoughts of his end make me freak;

Giving an air to his burning crave,

He’s burying himself deep in his grave.

I feel like closing my eyes,

Condoning those dark skies.

Helpless I bear his unjust hate,

Looking at his unlucky fate. 

Holified!

The scene begins with the tramps of about a dozen pairs of feet disturbing the silence of the surroundings. The noisy crescendo becoming louder and audible every next second. The haste of these legs lies in getting hold of a lone runner, who prevails at a distance of a few yards and is vying venomously to somehow conquer back his speed demon, commonly called a bike; parked a few more yards away.

Phew! I hope that you are not mistaken into taking this situation as a shot for an upcoming action flick or merely an advertisement, broadcasting the launch of a new range of footwear, for this is a tale….truly un-commercial, truly humane!

The above mentioned scenario has evolved over the past years of my life, with me going great guns for the fugitive flight every time on being chased by the mob of my mates, to escape a colorful splash. A boyous-bicycle having supports on either side being replaced by a better and a blazing bike; the cargo half-pants giving way to long, lanky denims; the small and slow steps turning into bigger and faster strides and my once meager momentum attaining a massive might- things, events and incidents seem to have changed, except my fear of being painted red and blue, for every year, I re-do the running rampage in one form or the other!

Though I love adorning my canvas with (mostly my course notebooks) with colors and caricatures, but I generally don’t prefer them to be smeared all over me. The mystery behind this behavior, alien to most of the masses, including me, still stands unfolded.

To thousands, the Gulaal may enthrall, but it’s really not my size of ball! The fear of being rendered colorful grips me and scares me to death. Comes the day of demise and my room is re-born as a military base, with latches, locks and keys serving as the barricades. I dare not to step out of the talismanic boundary, no matter who’s who is banging from the other side of the Line Of Control.

The mere sight of the people, garnished with somewhat Rainbow colors (which could easily beat the loudest of the make-ups of a winner of a beauty pageant),honking out loud on their gas-guzzlers, sends a shriek up my sleeves. The survival on such a day seems so scarce. And if you have a pack of rowdy friends at your disposal, then finding a silver lining among the colored clouds is as possible as Newton’s laws of motion going wrong, and that too in an inertial frame! Moreover, I’ve been a witness to many victims falling a prey to conflagring yellows, raging reds, solitary whites, oceanic blues and haunting blacks, and mind you, these are the memories which I won’t like to remember for long.

Nonetheless, the reasons for this allergy could be dated out to my inherent instincts of losing the fairness and pureness of the skin or to me being an introvert (one of the rare and precious benefits of being one). Going organic all the way may be sufficient for the former, but my success rate against the latter seems to be bleak and barred. This might eat up a bunch of years of my life, or even more. I may have to be on the less populated side of the bifurcation for some more time.

Till then, my fear, frivolous to many continues….         

X-ed!

The evil of every equation, the genesis of utter confusion…. Numerous neurons of mine collapse, the moment I encounter Mr. X!

A myth, a miracle, an oracle or someone cynical! No, no! He’s just Mr. X- the one who rules both the worlds, be it a real or a complex and the one who binds together the whole lot of insane integers, furious fractions, raucous rationals, irritating irrationals and slumberly surds! Surviving many a operations under the dreaded differentiators and intense integrators, Mr. X has emerged unharmed and unfazed over the decades, in fact over the centuries!

Not an alien to the students of this era of mind, misery and mathematics, the so called variable X, after engulfing the entire algebraic arena, before extending its devouring kills to the physical, chemical and biological realms up to an astonishing stature, has left the Earth guessing. What could be the next prey of this predator, signifying death to an intellectual and deletion to a geek? Not the literature please!

Grammatically speaking, I fail to understand, if this mathematical wonder falls into the category of a noun, a pronoun, a verb or an adjective, for starting from the age of Suresh, going through the profits and deficits of a company and ending at the grand totals and percentages of the students of a hypothetical institute; every think-able thing, feel-able feeling and ponder-able prose could be tagged with this single alphabet! It’s a one-man army in itself.

Moreover, it looks so weird to call X, a dependant, even though the equation solely depends on it. And if you’re not down with that, meet the proud progeny of Mr. X, the coveted X_i’s  (i=1,2,3,….,n :p), amplifying the already endless empire of their progenitor.

An interesting incident often encountered is the effervescence of a different Mr. X each time, the case of getting entirely different solutions, while solving the same problem again or a mismatch in the results of two students tackling the same problem. Certainly, Mr. X changes his skins just too fast as a fiddle!

With my malicious memories of unwanted and unconscious errors I committed while analyzing Mr. X notwithstanding, I could no longer epitomize this baffling battalion. But, I am sure that you could now at least get a glimpse of this creature causing carnage!

A V-Day special!

True Love in a Nutshell

Finding happiness in each other's joy,
Never letting petty things make you annoy;
Listening to the heart before one utters a word,
Spending time together, far from a noisy world;
Offering a help without being asked,
Speaking out yourself without being masked;
Ready to bear for your loved one, any loss,
And being always there to embrace the cross;
Living a life,belonging to your loved one, more than you;
This is true love for you!

Singles, need not worry!

Looking at the graceful couples,
Sitting under the shady maples;
He misses someone dear,
Then screams out loud and clear:
When do I get my part!
When do I find a way into someone's heart!
Engulfed by the killing solidarity,
Finds himself deep in a scary cavity!
Loses the love for life,
Puts his golden days under the knife!

But wait, O my brother!
Don't let the dust of gloom on you smother!
Someday, you'll find your match,
Someday, you'll make the big scratch!
Any moment, the dark clouds may make way,
Lobbying out for a bright day;
The winds of change will blow,
Ecstasy in your life will soon flow.
Having patience is the key,
You'll find the treasure buried in the sea;
God must have chosen for you the one,
Whom you could truly call your loved one!

A Secret Admirer!

Every step I take, she's on my mind,
More than love, I respect her for her acts so kind.
Re-kindles the flame in me, when it's about to die,
She's always there when I am about to cry;
In spending time with her, I feel pleasure,
Unfailed,she's in my pain,but never in my leisure;
I forget my worries when she's around,
Skim over the clouds, not just walk on the ground;
A feeling so divine,so Godly creeps in me,
Get a purpose, find my life serious to be;
Never expressed, how my heart feels for her,
How it beats for her!
Maybe, I am happy being her secret admirer!

A New Look!

Well,do you like the new face of my blog, in fact, of my heart? I really toiled hard to find this beautiful template, named Rainbow Garden, failing a number of times, trying again, and finally succeeding!Finding the template was not as difficult as applying it through the Settings on the Dashboard, for I am not really a computer geek(but I tend to be becoming one)! 

You might be wondering what could be the reason behind this 'early change', for 'Speaking Your Heart Out', is still very young on Blogspot!Actually this was the kind of format I was looking for in the beginning, but didn't let the 'technology search', hinder my writing. As now, I am getting somewhat experienced at managing the blog, so I would be taking care of its 'looks' simultaneously with the writings. But mind you, the writing part won't suffer, since writing is what my heart is all about!:)

Ode To The Old

Getting up at 6 in the morning after snoozing the 5:30 alarm several times, finally entertaining the doodhwaala, who would be banging at the door since ages, standing by the chunks of Verka milk bottles in his wagon, going out in the Nehru Memorial Park for a brisk half-an hour walk, rushing back home, and into the kitchen to prepare for himself a one-egg omelette with a half burnt toast and a strong tea and relishing the meal hurriedly before catching the last local from Bandra to Boriwilli; constituted the mornings of Mr. Goswami, a senior clerk in the Taxation Department of West Mumbai. A clean-shaven man with a supple and wrinkled leather, indicating that he was in his late 40’s, Mr. Goswami was a multi-faceted personality; an efficient bade-babu in office, a bal-brahamchari at home and more significantly, a prolific writer at heart. His study for which he had chosen Sadhna as the sobriquet, was a masterpiece, adorned with works as old as the Shakespeare and also providing an insight into the modern world of Robin Sharma and Chetan Bhagat. But the ‘commodity’ of Sadhna which seemed to be priceless for Mr. Goswami was the coveted wooden desk, lying in a corner and looking a century old, on which he had given birth to so many marvelous creations. While the water almost lobbied for crystallization in the cold winters, Mr. Goswami would sit for long hours in the nights in Sadhna which was warmed up, thanks to what seemed to be an ancient heat exchanger, sipping the sweet-corn soup to pump himself up, while capturing the magnificence of towering mountains and beautiful beaches in his lively poems and praising the Grand Hyatt delicacies in his ‘rude food’ articles. He was as sincere and witty as Karan Thapar and a visionary as Obama in his thinking chair.

As years rolled on , the Taxation Department employees were introduced to a new technology called the ‘computers’ and Mr. Goswami was not an exception. Apart from the clerical stuff, this ‘technology’ unleashed the treasure of writing tools like the Microsoft Office which engulfed Mr. Goswami, thus disturbing the ‘thermodynamics cycle’ of the ‘writer’. He would now no longer ‘waste’ his ink scribbling his heart out on the A4 sized sheets, rather he took to blogging, parting with his companion, the wooden desk, which had always stood by him in times, sweet and sour. Mr. Goswami indeed did a ‘Tiger Woods’ act! The ’thinking chair’ too was replaced by a strange- looking rocking chair.

One night, Mr. Goswami’s sound sleep was disturbed by an unexpected power blow-off. He got up, looked for his spectacles, but being unable to locate them, walked into the dark aimlessly. Soon, his path was obstructed by a ‘solid thing’. Hovering his hand over the ‘obstacle’, Mr. Goswami was unable to identify it. That very moment, the lights turned on and he found himself standing in the Sadhna with the same old wooden desk blocking his path, as if begging to him to return to his ‘old tradition’!

KEY WAYS to a happy life

True friends are hard to find,
Always SAVE them in your mind;
Sweet memories make us smile,
COPY them for life's next mile;
Along the 'lively path', golden gifts prevail,
Try to OPEN them, you'll never fail;
PRINT the goals you want to achieve,
Before for the journey of life you leave;
PREVIEW the life you desire to have at the end,
And see your dreams and efforts blend;
UNDO the laziness in you,
For it takes the destiny away from you;
DELETE the worries from your heart,
Go for the maximum and act smart;
CLOSE the blank pages of your life,
Make the NEW ones, for which you thrive;
CUT the boredom from your day,
PASTE creativity to find a new way;
For a fruitful life, try the thinking mode,
You'll find it's all on your keyboard!

Tweeting, finally!

The 'Twitter bug' is spreading its wings quick and fast, swallowing mathematically uncountable number of people and gulping down a huge part of the of the homo-sapiens! I wonder if  Twitter is the right name for this bug for the name seems exactly opposite to the 'acts of carnage' it has blasted over the humans!And I am the latest one who has been stung by this 'deadly bug'! I would now iterate the clichéd phrase: I am Tweeting!

The ones who want to check out my 'not yet so magical Tweets' could follow http://twitter.com/alreadyonhisway 

A Split-Pesonality?

Hold on! I am not going to list down the causes, symptoms and the cure for the above mentioned technical-looking words, for this is not a psychiatrist's blog! I start off by sharing a personal experience with you: In my latest venture, I got selected as a columnist for the 'not-so popular' newspaper of our university.(You could congratulate me for that, if you wish to). Call it a coincidence or a prediction come true, I was assigned the job, not forcefully though, to write on a topic, about which I had always hesitated to talk about. I would just walk out of a group if I sensed a story being concocted on the same issue.So, as soon as I was given an outline of what I had to write on, I felt that I might not be able to come up with something scintillating. But to my surprise, I exploited the 'scary topic' ruthlessly with my Reynolds ball point, when I sat down in my thinking chair! I seemed to get some sort of cosmic vibes which made me scribble on the A4 sized sheet very easily!The fear which haunts an engineering student just before an entrance examination turned into the care-free expression which prevails on his face before an ordinary Monday test.

Now, how would you describe that? Won't you call it 'the other side of me'? Maybe, I am a victim of a Split-Personality Syndrome;a teenager who is otherwise very simple, calm and composed, but turns into a brutal critic as soon as he gets his 'writing-machine' in his hand!

Most of you might be wondering that you are just wasting away your time reading some weird content by a,'I want to be a writer' kind of person, while the rest handful of you left, who have a 'blind faith' in me might put it the other way round:I am 'plastic', I stretch myself according to the change,I surrender to the change!

Though I would like to be tagged in the latter way, but I see no harm in being called a 'Split-Personality patient', as long as it helps me march forth on my 'writing path'. I would be the happiest unwell being in the world!

Poll in people!

It's a humble request to the readers, visitors and the members to please pour in with their comments , so that I get to know if I am catering well to your needs or not.Make a comment, send a message, leave a note, contribute a few seconds of your precious time to make my blog a better one, or at least readable one!

And I am glad that 'Blackbox' has become my first anonymous follower:)

It's Cold 'Within'

Now, you have to appreciate my courage, for I am performing the herculean task of writing my blog in this cold weather without any hand gear! Maybe, I am expecting some kid of 'Warming through Blogging'!Its difficult for me to survive for a considerable period of time without a pair of gloves. Talking of the weather again, its really very cold in this part of the world, at this point of the day. The tea-stall wallahs are making quick bucks,the coffee houses have become the most frequently visited places these days(Even more than the blogspot!),and the morning fog has slowed down the traffic, annoying many young bikers like me!. Many of my 'Facebook Friends' are becoming the fans of one coffee club or the other, just the right time to do so.

But, the 'Concept of Cold' seems nothing new to us. The winters last only for a few months, but the 'cold' prevails throughout the year and hence throughout our lives. I wonder, if it's really a post-winter effect, for even the scorching summers are also not enough to get rid of this cold. People are so intensely trapped in the materialistic-web that their souls are freezing, thus turning them into cold-blooded creatures. And still they look to restore the warmth by having a beverage-binge! 'Success' has overcome the terms of love, affection, humanity and above all, inter-personal relationships.The wells of well-being have dried up, fields of fidelity have become barren and the crop of calm has been destroyed. The sun seems to be eclipsed for the entire life. Who's then responsible for such an upheaval? I guess, it's not the winters!(A safe reply could be Pandora, for sure).

Humanity is certainly witnessing a nightmare, loosing its once- embedded innocence and flair. The ax of unexpected ordeals is looming over our heads and the humane- threads holding it are becoming weaker with every tick of the clock. The chances of a miracle seem to be grim.

Being practical, it seems rather impossible to restore a utopian- world, one could dream of, but the conditions could be prevented from becoming worse and then could be improvised further, for one in hand is better than two in a bush.Or, we could be mere spectators and allow the weather to become even more cold. I think, most of us would like to go with the former, but the path may not be easy, for one has to face cold to beat the cold!